So Much To Learn
by AdhesivePrincess
Summary: Elizabeth experiences how difficult being a pirate really is. Harsh reality, incredible adventures and subtle magic combine to give her quite an education. And Elizabeth is not the only one with much to learn. AU, whelp-free, J/E.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1 Goodbye Singapore

Greetings, Gentle Reader:

Before you begin reading this story, I would like to ask you to set aside all knowledge of the movie known as Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds' End. I began writing this story long before that movie was released. Therefore, the events in this story and the events in AWE don't mesh at all. So, please consider this an alternate universe story, which picks up where AWE didn't leave off. I'll warn you now, this will be a very long story when it is complete. But don't be intimidated by the number of chapters. They're all a comfortable length. I truly hope you'll find it as fun to read this as it is for me to write it. If you haven't read my story "Oh, My Stars", please do. It's a short one-shot that takes place just minutes prior to the beginning of this story.

Oops, one last request--if you have an opinion about my story, please tell me by leaving a review. I love and welcome reviews, good or bad. But if you really like this story, please tell your friends and send them here! I dream of seeing a 6-digit number on my hit counter by the time I finish writing this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Disney's, not even a pair of mouse ears.

**_-------- __Prologue_**

Elizabeth sat at the base of the mainmast, stung by the memories of her maternal grandmother's words. She was roused from her thoughts by more itching. She scratched her scalp and wondered idly if dirt could drive one mad. She suspected she would find out before long. She scratched the back of her neck where her hair was matted down tightly in a thick layer.

_Oh,_ she thought, _that's going to hurt coming out if I ever get my hands on a comb again._

It was a beautiful clear night under a new moon. Every star in the sky was ablaze with light, and Elizabeth could see her own shadow on the deck faintly revealed by the starlight. Since she was too wide awake to attempt sleeping again any time soon, Elizabeth rubbed her back against the mast and let her mind wander.

There was much for her to contemplate. The past ten weeks aboard the Black Pearl had been nothing like Elizabeth had ever imagined life on a pirate ship would be. When she had read all those exciting and forbidden pirate stories as a child, she had never considered the day to day life of a pirate. Her daydreams about pirates were all about the thrill of the fights, the fantastic treasures and being on the open sea. Mundane things like baths and food and bodily functions had never crossed her mind. A few weeks on the Black Pearl and all her childhood fantasies about pirates had been destroyed, replaced with the harsh realities of pirate life.

**_Ch. 1, Goodbye Singapore_**

After Jack had been rescued, the Black Pearl was raised from the bottom of the ocean. She came up in almost-as-good-as-new condition, courtesy of a minor ocean deity Jack had somehow met and charmed during his time in Davy Jones' locker. Never underestimate the powers of a minor deity, he'd said. All the nonsense about Davy Jones' heart, Will's father's curse and Cutler Beckett's Napoleon complex had been settled. After they left the Locker, the adventurers on the stolen ship captained by Barbossa soon found themselves in Singapore.

While Jack and Barbossa were both out in search of new crew members to get their ships to their separate destinations, Will had taken his leave of those who had survived the adventure. When he said goodbye to Elizabeth early that morning, he broke off their engagement none too gently. She still winced when she recalled the conversation.

He had caught her alone on the deck on the last day before the Pearl was to leave Singapore.

"Elizabeth, it is beyond time that I spoke my true feelings. I've said nothing until now because there was no point in speaking out while we were at sea and no action could be taken. And since we arrived in Singapore, there has been no opportunity to speak to you privately. But before we set sail, I feel I must speak my mind. I am certain that you took Jack as your lover while I was aboard the Flying Dutchman. I saw you kiss him the day the Pearl went down. A woman does not kiss a man like that unless she has bedded him. That broke my heart, Elizabeth, to think that you could forget me so quickly and bed such a man as he."

"But Will, that's not true! I am still a maiden! How could you believe that of me?"

"I'm not as naïve as you think I am. I saw how different you became after he died. I knew then that our life together was over before it started. The only reason I went on the mission to rescue Jack was because I loved you still, and I wanted to see you happy again. I knew that only Jack's return would make you smile. I will always love you, but I do not have to stay around to watch the two of you together."

"Will, he and I are _not _together! There is nothing between us. You don't know the whole story! I'm certain he hates me. _Please_ Will, you must believe me!" She didn't try to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes.

"No, Elizabeth. It is over between us. I don't want to hear any more about Jack Sparrow. I just want to get out of the way." He looked at his feet, and she could see him squinting, holding back his own tears.

"Oh, Will...," Elizabeth sighed, "how can I convince you otherwise?"

"You should have thought of that before you bedded him."

Elizabeth's pain turned to panic when she realized he was really leaving her on her own, halfway around the world. "You're just going to leave me here in Singapore on my own then? How can you do this to me?"

"You're not on your own. You have _Jack._" He spat out the name as if it tasted bad. "You will truly be a pirate now, as you have always dreamed. I hope your newfound womanly skills will serve you well in the pirates' world, _Miss_ Swann." His words made her cringe, and tears came to her eyes again.

"Where will you go? How will you get home again?"

"I don't dare to return directly to Port Royal because I don't know the political situation there since Beckett's fall. But I'm sure we have both been labeled pirates by the law, if we have not been declared dead and our belongings sold at auction. I found a merchant captain who has agreed to take my father and me on as extra hands. I don't have a home anymore, and neither do you. I do not know where I will end up, but right now I don't care very much. "

Elizabeth gasped at his words. She had not even considered the fact that she might not be able to return home again after having been in the company of pirates for so long during the search for Jack.

Will continued. "I would like to return to Port Royal at least long enough to gather my tools from the shop, even if I must sneak in at night and steal them. But if I cannot return to working in Mister Brown's shop, I still intend to use my blacksmithing skills again. If I must leave Port Royal, I would prefer to settle somewhere quite boring and far from the sea. My father is the only pirate I ever wish to see again. Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Swann, I have a ship to board." He turned away, and did not look back as he crossed the deck to join his father. Will walked down the narrow gangplank of the Pearl together and disappeared into the crowds on the docks of Singapore.


	2. Chapter 2 Of Mice and Women

**_Ch 2 Of mice and women_**

Elizabeth, abandoned by her fiancé and alone in a strange country halfway around the world, was frantic to find a way home. She returned to Barbossa's ship and was greeted by the captain himself.

"I hear that Mister Turner has left ye to seek his own fortune, eh Miss Swann?" _News travels fast,_ Elizabeth thought. Barbossa leered at her. "I can't say I'm sorry ta get Bootstrap off me ship. I kept wonderin' when he was goin' ta try ta kill me. I'm afraid that yer cozy little cabin below decks has been reassigned in your absence. But I'd be happy to upgrade yer accommodations." He took her hand and kissed it sloppily. "There's plenty of room in my cabin…" He let the sentence trail off as he watched her shuddered involuntarily.

"No, thank you" she replied. "I have already made other arrangements for my passage back home." Telling the lie made her wince inside, but she felt she needed an excuse or he might not take no for an answer.

"Ah then, going with Jack, are ye? You needn't blush, Miss Swann. I saw ye lookin' at him. Now there's a pair that'll make folks quiver in their boots!" He laughed. "Well, the offer remains, if Jack fails ye, there's a place for ye in my cabin." He kissed her hand again, then turned and walked away to oversee departure preparations. Elizabeth waited until he turned before wiping his spit off her hand onto her trousers.

Now Elizabeth had only one choice left. She would have to return to the Pearl and speak with Jack. He had not spoken to her since his rescue from the Locker, and he had avoided her when she got anywhere near him.

But desperate times call for a port in a storm. She gritted her teeth and returned to where the Pearl was temporarily docked while she took on supplies enough for a voyage across the Pacific. Mister Gibbs was happy to see her again and granted her permission to come aboard when she asked if she could speak to Jack. Once aboard, she hesitated before knocking on his cabin door.

"'s open!" he grunted. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jack was seated at the table with his back to the door, leaning over a sea chart. He didn't look up until she spoke.

"Hello, Jack." He straightened up so fast his chair nearly tipped over backward. In a flash he was on his feet facing her, hand on the hilt of his knife. "Get out o' my cabin, you, you..."

Elizabeth cringed. She knew she deserved anything he called her. But he never finished the sentence. He stared at her for a long while before asking "Why are you here?"

_'Let's get it over with'_, she thought. "I came to beg your forgiveness and to ask you if I might join your crew until you reach the Caribbean and I can get wind of how the politics in Port Royal settled out. I have no other way to return home."

The incredulous expression on Jack's face left no doubt in her mind that this was not what he had expected her to say.

"You send me to Davy Jones' Locker, and then you come to me begging for a ride home? I don't want a murderess on my ship, especially my murderess. Where's lover boy? Why don't you two go with Barbossa?"

Elizabeth dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying. "Mister Turner and Mister Turner senior have set out together to find their own way in the world. I was not invited to join them. In fact I was specifically uninvited", she added softly.

"'s not my problem", he stated flatly. "Go back to Barbossa and beg him for a ride."

"He offered me a berth in his cabin..." her voice trailed off. There was no need to finish that sentence.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at her.

Elizabeth broke. The fear of being left alone in Singapore was overwhelming. She threw herself on his mercy, apologizing over and over, begging his forgiveness. 

"I'm not one to forgive someone who killed me", he replied, "but I will _consider_ taking you on as a working crew member. I know not to turn my back on those I don't trust. If you even think about turning against me again I'll kill you where you stand. But having been more decorative than useful aboard the Pearl in the past, what could you do to earn your keep on my ship?"

Elizabeth had nothing to offer but some skill with a sword and the willingness to attempt to learn any necessary task. Jack sent her off the ship and told her not to return until dusk when he would give her his decision. She spent the day aimlessly wandering the shops near the docks, not looking at anything. The fear that he would say no occupied all of her thoughts. She returned to the ship as early as she dared. Jack refused to see her until the sun had almost completely set below the horizon.

"I'm certain I will regret this decision," Jack began, "but I've decided to let you join my crew until we are back in the Caribbean. But these are my conditions. You will _not_ be allowed to get out of performing any task required of you simply because of the fact that you are, indeed, not a man. You will be expected to pull your own weight as well as those of other crewmen if needed. You will follow my orders, no talking back, no whining, no second-guessing me. And you are not to touch any manacles aboard this ship. _Ever._ Am I clear?"

Elizabeth was too relieved to do anything but nod. Jack frowned.

"Miss Swann, that's 'Yes, Captain Sparrow.'"

Elizabeth suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, and quietly replied, "Yes, Captain Sparrow".

* * *

The first problem that Jack had to resolve was where Elizabeth was to sleep on the ship. He considered suggesting that she could have a berth in his cabin, but decided that the slap he'd receive wasn't worth the jest. 

A full tally of all the time she had spent on the Pearl before it was taken by the Kraken amounted to less than three days in total. During that time there had been so many misadventures and fights that she had barely slept, let alone had a bunk or a cabin to herself. While they had been on Barbossa's stolen ship during the voyage to rescue Jack and all that came after that, Elizabeth had been given private quarters with a bed, a chamber pot and a washstand. This was only because Will had repeatedly insisted on it. He had slept in a hammock outside her door "to protect her from the crew". That insane trip had been magically shortened from months to days thanks to some witchery of Tia Dalma, who kept insisting that 'dey mus' hurry to find Jack Spahrrow before him soul dry up an' blow awey". So Elizabeth had not really had an opportunity to sample "normal" life on a "normal" pirate ship that wasn't being hunted by the Navy or attacked by undead pirates or chased by mythological creatures.

Now that she was back on the Pearl there was no place to put her, and they were facing a voyage that could take nearly a year to get them back to the Caribbean. All but two of the Black Pearl's cabins had been removed long ago to make room for more cargo, and one of those cabins was Jack's. So there weren't any extra cabins to be assigned to her.

Gibbs slept in the only remaining extremely small cabin, which was one deck below Jack's larger captain's cabin. Private accommodations were Gibbs' reward and due as first mate on the ship. The rest of the crew slept in a large common area below the second deck toward the forecastle, or fo'c's'le in the front of the ship. There were hammocks hung from nails in every available spot, and the men shared the ships' nearby "head" for toilet functions. Elizabeth had not been enthused about the idea of sharing the common area with 30 or more men, some of whom were not happy to have her aboard, and some of whom were entirely too happy about it.

Jack and Gibbs talked it over, more like argued over it. Gibbs kept insisting that because she female she was automatically bad luck. Jack agreed that she was bad luck, but he had agreed to let her aboard and that was that. They decided that putting a woman in the common area was only asking for huge amounts of trouble. Gibbs had some of the men clear out a small area in a corner of the gun deck. It was at the stern of the ship and one deck below Gibbs' own cabin. A rough rope hammock was rigged up in the corner behind a makeshift wall made of a stack of crates and large barrels, and a small wooden bucket was provided as a chamber pot. Elizabeth was not provided with a candle because of the Code rule barring open flames below decks, and lanterns were scarce aboard the ship. The area stunk of something like old wet bread or stale beer, and it was pitch dark. But it seemed worlds better than the common area--until Elizabeth went to bed that night.

She was exhausted from the emotions of the day. She fell asleep almost immediately after finally figuring out how to get into the hammock without dumping herself onto the deck. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but she woke up abruptly as something ran across her forehead. At the same instant, she felt something moving inside the leg of her trousers. Her piercing scream startled Jack two decks above her, causing him to drop a bottle of rum. As she tried to leap to her feet, she fell out of the hammock and landed on her rump on the floor.

A minute later Gibbs and Jack burst onto the deck together, Jack carrying a sword, Gibbs carrying a lantern and a pistol. Both of them expected to find a randy crew member trying to become Elizabeth's newest acquaintance. They were surprised to find Elizabeth standing alone in the middle of the tiny cleared spot in total darkness, wiping her face, grabbing at her legs and screaming incoherently. Jack yelled "What is it?"

"There's something in my trousers!" was the hysterically shrieked reply. Jack smirked and then reached out to snag a lump in a fold of Elizabeth's trousers with two fingers. He felt what he expected to find. Elizabeth screamed again--as Jack pinched the mouse, it pissed down her leg.

He shook the fold vigorously and the mouse fell out of the trouser leg. It hit the deck, lay stunned for half a second, and then dove into a tiny crack between the planks. The rest of the crew, awakened by her screaming, had crowded around trying to find out what was happening. When the mouse hit the deck, they burst into laughter.

Elizabeth was mortified. After all, she'd faced a Kraken and hadn't screamed. "I'm not afraid of mice, really! It just startled me, that's all!" Another mouse ran across the deck in the flickering lantern light and she screamed again.

Jack shook his head and said to Gibbs "It was bloody lucky that the ship's rats hadn't come a-calling instead of the mice. She might have burst a lung if a rat had joined her in her bunk. There'll be no sleep for anyone while she's down here. And the damned rum is gone…again. Mister Gibbs, trade bunks with Miss Swann for tonight."

"But Cap'n..."

"Do it, Gibbs, unless you want to spend the night down here on mouse watch so the rest of us can get some shut-eye!"

'Aye, Cap'n. But only for one night. Tomorrow I'll find someplace else to put her."

Elizabeth was disappointed that she could find nothing in Gibbs' cabin with which to wash off the smelly mouse piss. She wiped off what she could on a rag she found next to the bed. Weeks later, Gibbs cursed the mice for pissing on his other shirt.

* * *

The next morning, Gibbs woke up early and set to finding another place for Elizabeth to bunk. He finally settled on the alcove underneath the port side stairs leading to the quarterdeck. It was normally used to store coils of rope and barrels of pitch, but other places were found for most of those things. The cannon that resided there had to remain in place as it might be needed at any time, and there was no other place to put it anyway. The alcove was enclosed on the port side of the ship by the hull itself, and the rear wall was shared by Jack's cabin. The steps themselves, however, were open-backed with no risers, and there was no inside wall to enclose the alcove underneath. Gibbs paid a visit to the ship's supplies closet and returned with some scraps of faded old black canvas left over from the last refitting of the sails after Barbossa's curse had nearly destroyed the ship. 

Two sailors were employed to nail up the scraps to the backs of the stairs to cover the openings. Two of the largest pieces of canvas were nailed to the carriage of the stairs to act as curtains across the open side. Jack came out of his cabin to investigate the pounding, and approved the new quarters. "Far enough from the men to keep the peace at lights out, near enough to the rail when she gets seasick." Elizabeth's hammock and bucket from the storage area were deposited under the steps, and a coarse and threadbare woolen blanket that smelled of bilge water was tossed on top of them.

Gibbs woke Elizabeth up by pounding on his cabin door. "Miss Swann, Cap'n wants to see you on the main deck. _Now._" Elizabeth scrambled to get her boots on and get up the ladder to the deck as quickly as possible. She didn't want to do anything else that might anger Jack before they left Singapore.

Gibbs gave her a few minutes to investigate her new sleeping area before ushering her off to her first day of work. The cannon port in the hull wall of the alcove acted as a window, allowing in a little sunlight, and also the occasional splash of ocean spray when the Pearl was hit by large waves. The cubby wasn't as dark and quiet as the storage room, but it also didn't smell like sour fermented grain. Elizabeth was assured repeatedly by Gibbs that mice never made appearances on the main deck. As he walked away, he commented to nobody in particular ,"I hope the blasted mice don't prove me a liar!"


	3. Chapter 3 Storms and Stones

_Ch 3 Storms and Stones _

Elizabeth spent her first real day as a member of the crew learning how to stone and polish the decks. It was backbreaking work, and seemed unnecessary to her, given the Pearl's recent reconditioning after being raised from the ocean floor by Jack's "friend", the ocean goddess. But she was determined to follow orders and prove herself a worthy crew member. By day's end, she was sweaty and filthy from handling the sand and stones used to smooth the already gleaming wood. Her back, knees and hands hurt, and every fingernail had either been broken or worn back to the quick. She longed for a good hot meal, a bath and an early bedtime.

Gibbs showed her the way to the crew's mess area, where she stood in line behind him, and was handed a wooden plate with a chunk of salted fish and a piece of hardtack, and a mug of watered rum with lemon juice in it. Jack got his food first, but he did not remain in the mess area. He took his plate and returned to his cabin. Elizabeth took a seat with Gibbs, and tried not to blush as the entire crew watched her eat.

The fish wasn't so bad if one didn't mind one's fish stretching like leather when one bit it, but the hardtack was surely stale. She asked Gibbs if he thought the bread was bad. She was surprised to find out that the vile tasting rock-hard coarse grained unleavened rye bread was freshly purchased only the day before they left the last port. Gibbs felt that it was still quite good, actually. Elizabeth could tell that she would be picking bits of hard grain and small bits of grindstone out of her teeth all night. The weak rum was the best part of the meal, as Elizabeth was parched from the day's work on the deck in the sun. She wondered if she could get more, but soon realized that none of the crew got seconds on anything. As they finished their food, some of them went off to their various duties and others remained at their places, watching her and whispering among themselves.

She casually mentioned to Gibbs that a bath would be nice, hoping he would tell her where the ship's bathtub might be. Barbosa's stolen ship only had a few amenities but none that she had enjoyed more than the ability to stay relatively clean. Gibbs' reply was "Aye, I'm sure a bath would be nice, but if ye be wantin' a bath, you'll have to wait until we reach another port and go buy one somewhere. There's not enough fresh water on board for bathin', and it doesn't stay fresh for long in those barrels anyway. Drink the fresh water while ye can, and don't waste it on washin' anythin'." And with that, he left her alone in the mess with the crew. She wasted no time in downing her rum grog and hurried topside to the privacy of her new "cabin" under the stairs. At least she could have that early bedtime.

She soon discovered that the hammock wasn't going to work out very well under the stairs. It was too close to the bottom of the steps to get into it easily, and she could not stretch out in it properly without the cannon hitting her in the back. She lay curled up on her side for a time, but her aching back insisted that she lay flat. She eventually got carefully out of the hammock and sat down on the deck below it. As she stretched out flat on her back and put her hands behind her head, she discovered that the deck had drips and rings of sticky pitch all over it from the barrels that had been stored there. She got bits of pitch all over her hands and clothes and even in her hair before she could get up off the deck.

She got back into the hammock facing the other way, scooted as far away from the cannon as she could and managed to stretch out nearly full length on her back with her feet up near the nail in the rear wall. The bottom of the steps were only inches from her face, but her back felt so much better in that position that she fell asleep quickly. Feet pounding up the steps right above her startled her awake and she sat up suddenly. As she connected with the bottom of the steps, the resulting blow to the top of her head knocked her back into the hammock, and she was again dumped onto the sticky deck, banging the back of her head on the side of the cannon on the way down. A hollow clang sounded as she hit it. She fought back tears from the pain in her head and her back as she got to her feet. She crawled back into the hammock and lay in a fetal position on her side, head far from the offending steps. Feet on the steps woke her up every few hours all night as the watch changed on the deck above her.

The next morning she began cleaning and stoning the deck under the steps as soon as she awoke. Gibbs found her hard at work when he came looking for her to assign her a task, and left her to it without a word. It took her all day to remove the sticky drips of pitch from the small area, but at last the deck was clean, and she had done it all herself without asking for anyone's help. Elizabeth slept on the deck in the cubby from then on, wrapped in the blanket, and her head pillowed on her rolled up coat.

After the Pearl left Singapore, Jack received one last gift from the ocean goddess. The ship had made her way past the islands of Indonesia and out to the open sea. As soon as she cleared the last island, the skies opened and a ferocious storm came out of nowhere. Fierce wind attacked the ship from all sides, and the horizontal sheets of rain slashed at the crew, each sharp drop stinging eyes and skin where it struck. On Jack's command, the crew reefed and furled the sails as fast as they could in the horrible winds, and then fled below decks. Elizabeth huddled in the cargo hold, where even the mice were hiding from the storm. They could hear water rushing past the hull as if the Pearl was riding the rapids of a great river. Jack remained at the helm alone, clinging to the wheel. The crew could hear him above them, singing and laughing into the fierce rain. Daft Jack indeed; he seemed to be enjoying the terrible storm.

Many hours later when the wind subsided and the crew cautiously came back up on the deck, they were stunned to see bright morning sunlight, and land in the distance to the east. They looked at Jack. He simply said "We're across the Pacific, mates, that's North America! Don't know exactly where in North America, but there it is. I didn't quite get what I asked for, but it'll have to do. Mister Gibbs, take the helm. I need a drink and some sleep." When pressed for details later, all he would say was that he had won a bet with that lesser goddess of the seas, and her payment of that debt had cut several months off their voyage home. After all the supernatural experiences they had been through recently the regular crew of the Black Pearl accepted it as if being transported several thousand miles in a matter of hours was something that happened to them daily. Many of the newer crew members became very religious very quickly.


	4. Chapter 4 Calls of Nature

**Ch 4 Calls of Nature**

After just one full day working on the deck, Elizabeth realized just how little she had actually contributed to the previous voyage, despite her belief that she had pulled her own weight the whole time. Her back and knees ached constantly. Her face, neck and arms were sunburned and wind burned. Her skin stung and felt uncomfortably tight. The fickle winds that crisscrossed the deck kept taking her floppy tri-corn hat, which was too big and sat too loosely on her head. After chasing the hat across the deck several times, she finally threw it into her cubby to keep from losing it overboard. But the wind played havoc with her long hair, which was now unfettered. She could not keep it out of her face. The long hair lashing against her sunburned cheeks made them even more painfully sore, and her eyes began to burn from her hair whipping into them constantly. Jack passed by where she was working, and heard her spitting her hair out of her mouth with a mild curse. He returned to his cabin and came back with a ragged old scarf. He handed it to her. "Tie up your hair" he said, and then he was gone before she could thank him. She bound the scarf around her head, tucked her long hair up underneath it and tied the ends at the base of her neck. Appearance be hanged, her hair was a liability onboard a ship.

Elizabeth soon discovered that there was very little privacy aboard the vessel. The male crew members were not shy about answering nature when it called. If the "call" involved something time consuming, the men used the forward head, which was a series of holes cut into seats in a section of the forecastle deck. Waste dropped straight into the ocean. But if one of them simply needed to unburden his bladder, rather than leave the deck he just unbuttoned and let fly through the ship's rails. The first time Elizabeth rounded a corner and came upon a crewman urinating, she was so embarrassed she dropped the deck mop and bucket she was carrying and fled back around the corner, cheeks burning bright red. Of course word spread quickly through the crew that pissing got the girl's goat. Soon many of the crew members took to loitering near the rails if Elizabeth was working nearby. If she turned toward them, as one they would open their flies and aim at the ocean, with loud commentary on what a great relief it was to be able to piss wherever they wished. At first it bothered Elizabeth and she would turn away embarrassed. Once men at both rails at once had her turning in circles, near to tears from embarrassment but unable to escape the spectacle without fleeing and encouraging them further. But after a while she became tired of the trick and it became more annoying than embarrassing. She would roll her eyes skyward and continue with her work, looking anywhere but at the rail where the men were busy relieving themselves. She could put up with it, but she wished she could find a way to make them stop.

One afternoon she felt a familiar cramping pain in her lower belly. It reminded her that her monthlies were going to be arriving very soon if they hadn't already. She had been so wrapped up in her new life that she totally forgotten about that particular inconvenience. She realized that she had nothing with which to stem the flow. At home in Port Royal, she had maids who sewed soft flannel pads for her to wear. Fresh ones were supplied by the maids, and the dirty ones were taken away to be washed and dried. She was sure there was no soft flannel lying about on board the ship, and most certainly no laundresses. She went to her cubby and examined the faded black sailcloth curtains. When Gibbs had ordered them to be put up, the curtains were not cut to fit the opening, so there was quite a bit of extra material. Elizabeth tore a strip of it off the edge of one of the curtains. It wasn't as soft as flannel, but since it was old and had spent a lot of time flapping in the wind, at least it was softer than new canvas. She tore it again into shorter pieces and folded them into pads. The fabric was almost as absorbent as cotton flannel. It was ugly and dirty, but it served the purpose.

The issue of what to do with the dirty pads was a problem. Gibbs had told her not to waste fresh water by washing anything, but these absolutely had to be washed. Not only did she need to use them again, but they started to smell pretty bad after a day in her cubby. It got rather warm in there during the day with the sun beating down on the black stairs above it.

Early one morning Elizabeth used a coil of rope and one of the deck swabbing buckets to pull up some seawater. She kneeled down near the rail to begin rinsing out the rags. Almost immediately two of the crewmen showed up, intent on having a little fun at her expense. Standing only a few feet away, they began the ritual of unbuttoning their trousers and loudly exclaiming how badly they needed to piss. Without looking up, Elizabeth asked them "Why must you do that here?" They looked at each other—she had never spoken up to anyone who had done this before. One of them grinned and replied "It's got to come out somewhere, don't it?"

Elizabeth pulled the bloody grayish-black rags out of her pocket, laid them out on the deck, and immersed them one by one in the bucket of sea water. The dried blood reddened the water immediately as it began to dissolve. The two men stared at Elizabeth, frozen to the spot. Both of them were familiar enough with women to realize what she had in her hands. This wasn't something men should be privy to! Elizabeth noticed that both men were blushing She pulled the rags from the bucket, wrung them out, stood up and slowly poured the red water over the rail and back into the sea with a flourish. She commented "It's got to come out somewhere, doesn't it?" and nonchalantly pulled up another bucket of water. The men buttoned up hastily and fled. Elizabeth was quietly pleased to note how quickly the number of urinary performances by the crew soon dropped to zero.


	5. Chapter 5 Sharp As A Knife

**Ch. 5 Sharp as a Knife**

After only a few days on the ship, Elizabeth had figured out which crew members would reply to her if she spoke to them. Gibbs made lots of noise about women being unlucky aboard a ship, but he would also happily tell her stories about his adventures if she sat still for more than a few minutes. A few of the other men of the crew were very superstitious about having a woman aboard, and would spit over their shoulder or make some other sign to ward off evil if she even approached them. They were polite enough to her if forced to work directly with her, but otherwise kept their distance. The rest of the crew was quite interested in her. Some of the men were older, and treated her like they would a daughter or a niece. They enjoyed conversing with her and taught her little tricks and shortcuts to make her tasks easier. Two of the youngest ones, brothers Jacob and Tobias, ages fourteen and fifteen, developed hopeless crushes on her and stuttered and blushed whenever she came near them. They took turns shoving each other at her as she passed by, daring each other to speak to her, and she enjoyed watching them go from tan to crimson if she so much as looked their way. It was an amusing way for her to pass the time.

But two of the men Jack had recruited in Singapore looked at her as predators look upon prey. Those men made Elizabeth shiver. The low-voiced comments they made to her when no other ears could hear made her face burn. She avoided them as much as possible, but the Black Pearl was not a large ship, and she was unable to keep distance between them and her for long. On days when she was assigned to work with one or both of them, she was subjected to a constant stream of filthy comments. When she finally could stand no more and asked them to stop, they only laughed. Wasn't she the ship's tart? They could speak as they pleased around such a woman. Elizabeth was frightened, but she held onto the vague hope that nothing bad would happen to her on Jack's ship.

One evening after supper, Elizabeth was tagged to begin learning how to do the watches. She was sent up to the quarterdeck with the crewman whose watch it was, and he instructed her on how to keep time on the ship by turning the hourglass and ringing the ship's bell to call the hours as the sand ran out. She also had to keep notes on a small slate about anything unusual that occurred during her watch as well as keeping a lookout for approaching ships. It was exhausting to try to stay alert for that long at one time. It was midnight when the watch ended. At the end of the watch, she headed to her cubby under the stairs.

As she passed through the curtains, rough hands grabbed her, covered her mouth and pulled her into the cubby. "Hush, missy, all's I be wantin' is me fair turn with ye!" She was forced down onto the deck, still gagged by the hand. She was horrified to realize that the pirate was one of the two men who had been harassing her. His pants were already unbuttoned and he was ready for action. Using his body and legs to help restrain her, he struggled to open her trousers with one hand, while trying to keep her mouth covered with the other. Elizabeth struck at his face and tried to bite him. He responded by grabbing her throat with both hands and choking her. "Ye don't need to be awake for me to take what I want" he growled. Elizabeth struggled but could not free herself. Frantically, she began kicking with both feet, pounding them against the deck and the wall of the cubby. But he continued to choke her and she felt herself losing consciousness.

Abruptly the curtains were ripped down, and the pirate was lifted off of Elizabeth by strong hands. She could not see what happened, but she heard loud cursing and the sounds of a man being struck repeatedly. Then she heard "Lizzie, are you….are you alright? Bugger that bastard! Lizzie!!!!!!" She was lifted up and carried out onto the deck. She could barely see for the spots floating in her vision, but she knew it was Jack who held her.

He laid her down gently on the deck near his cabin door. "Are you hurt? Can you breathe?" She shook her head no to answer the first question, and tried to inhale deeply to answer the second. She began coughing, but recovered enough to take a ragged breath. Yes, she nodded. She could still breathe, but it would be a while before she could speak. Jack touched her shoulder and said "Be still, luv, I'll be right back." Then he turned to deal with the miscreant.

The man was being held by three or four other crewmen, nose and mouth bleeding, pants still open and his now-flaccid organ hanging out of the fly. A ship's deck is almost never devoid of crew, and it had been obvious what his intent had been to all who witnessed when Jack hauled him out of the cubby. Only moments had passed since the incident, but the entire crew was on the deck of the ship, crowded around the men who held the prisoner. They were all talking at once, as the story was quickly repeated for latecomers. As Jack rose from Elizabeth's side, a hush passed over the men. They wanted to hear what their Captain had to say.

A dark storm crossed Jack's face as he approached the man. "Fletcher, you filthy bilge rat, I ought to kill you where you stand. I'm a fair captain but you've crossed the line of the Code, and you know the price." The man stared at Jack defiantly but said nothing.

"Men, what says the Code about women?" With the exception of the prisoner, the crew replied as one, repeating the words that had been drilled into them "If at any time you meet with a prudent Woman, that Man that offers to meddle with her, without her Consent, shall suffer Death."

Fletcher spoke loudly. " But she was consentin'! She invited me to her bed after her watch!" He pulled his arms free of his captors and angrily buttoned up his fly.

Elizabeth's residual shock and fear turned to anger, and she spoke for the first time since the attack. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, but clear enough for all to hear.

"Liar! You bold-faced liar! You've been saying awful things to me for days now, you and that Hawkins man. The two of you are horrible men. I would never have invited you anywhere, leastways to bed with me! Devil take you for a liar!" She would have said more, but a sharp pain in her throat started a coughing fit and she was forced to stop speaking

A commotion within the crowd drew Jack's attention. Several men had seized the man Hawkins by the arms and were shuffling him forward. "Captain, d'ye want this one too?" said one of them. "Hawkins, what have you to say to this accusation?" growled Jack. The men freed him so he could speak. Hawkins shrugged his arms angrily and spat. "She dresses like a man, but flaunts herself as a woman all about the ship." He waved in the general direction of the stairs where Elizabeth's cubby was. "I hear she's got men in there every night. She's a whore, I say, and she only got what she was askin' for. He turned to the rest of the crew. "Ain't it true, mates? Fletcher only did what all the rest of ye wants to do, right? We should all get our turn with the ship's whore!" Fletcher stood up straighter, expecting the crew to agree with Hawkins' words. But the crew remained silent.

Jack's dark eyes had gone black with anger. "Hold him, men" he said quietly. The men who had dragged Hawkins forward grabbed him again. Hawkins struggled briefly then held still as he heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. Jack stood with the pistol pointed at Hawkins, and thought for a moment. Finally he spoke. "I'm not one for killing a man outright, but these are breaches of the Code that cannot go unpunished. Somebody bring me a barrel and a board." Crew members scrambled to comply, and within a few minutes an empty wooden barrel was rolled onto the deck. Someone else produced a plank of deck patching wood. The crew muttered amongst themselves. What was the Captain thinking?

Jack waited until the murmuring died away before speaking. "Daniel Fletcher, you have broken the Code by meddling with a woman who would have none of you. For this I sentence you to…." Jack paused to find the right words. "…death in the arms of the sea if you cannot reach land in this fine conveyance with which I am providing you. Savvy?" He gestured at the barrel and board. "But Captain, we're days from land!" protested the suddenly frightened Fletcher. "Aye, we are. But you knew the Code. You should have thought of that before you decided to force yourself upon Miss Elizabeth." It was the first time Jack had called her that, Elizabeth noted.

Turning to face the second man, Jack continued. "Jonathan Hawkins, you have made public attempt to encourage the crew to break the Code and have made public slanderous accusations against a crew member. For this I sentence you to join your friend Mr. Fletcher in seeking your fortune ashore." Jack walked toward the ship's port rail and peered over the side at the ocean. He gestured to the men who had the barrel and board that they should throw those things overboard. Two splashes sounded from the darkness below. Cotton held up a small lantern, and the vague outline of the barrel could be seen floating away into the darkness, while the board bumped against the ship's hull. "There's your boat, and there's your oar. Now, over the side with you." Jack waved the pistol casually at Fletcher and Hawkins. "Wait. Before you do that, turn over any weapons you're bearing." Hawkins waved his hands helplessly. He was unarmed. Fletcher produced a sharp knife with a green paua shell handle. One of his captors took it and handed it to Jack. Jack took the knife and put it into his sash. He waved the pistol vaguely toward the sea, and then pointed it at the two men again. "Land is somewhere that way. Right now, over you go. I hope the sharks don't choke on your bones." The crewmen released the prisoners.

Hawkins climbed onto the rail, dove and began swimming in the direction he thought the barrel had gone. Fletcher suddenly realized that only one of them would fit in the barrel, and dove in right after him. Jack and the sailors who were close enough to see them watched the men until they were beyond the lantern's light. Then Jack turned away from the rail, uncocked the pistol and tucked it back into his waistband. He spoke to the gathered crew. "Do we have an understanding here? Miss Elizabeth is a member of this crew, she is her own person, and she is not to be meddled with without her consent. I won't be so kind to the next bilge rat who attempts to force her. Savvy? Now get back to what you were doing!" There was a murmur of assent as the men drifted off to their various posts or below decks to their bunks. The sound of a brief flurry of pounding came from the port stairs.

Elizabeth sat up against the cabin door, still breathing with some difficulty. Her neck and throat hurt badly, and she could tell without seeing them that bruises were forming on her face, arms and legs where Fletcher had restrained her. Worse in her mind, he had torn the fabric of her trousers while trying to remove them, so they no longer stayed closed without being held together.

Jack approached and knelt beside Elizabeth. "Feelin' any better, luv?" She nodded. "He didn't manage to…?." He left the question unfinished, but his eyes met hers. "No." was all she said. A huge sigh of relief escaped Jack's lips. "That's good." was all he said out loud.

"Jack?" Elizabeth's voice cracked, but she wasn't sure if it was caused by pain in her throat or a sudden rush of emotion.

"What, luv, what is it?"

"I'm afraid he ruined my trousers beyond repair. These are all the clothes I have. What shall I wear?"

For possibly the first time in his life, Jack's mind did not run immediately to the worst possible reply. "Let me think if there's anyone aboard about your size. Ah, yes, he should do." Jack leapt to his feet, headed below deck, and soon returned with a pair of trousers. "You'll owe Mr. Moore a new pair when you can repay him, but he sends these with his regards. Lucky for you, he just acquired these and hadn't even worn them yet." He laid them in her lap.

"Now, are you able to get to your feet? Let's get you up then." He offered her his hand and helped her up. She had to use one hand to hold her trousers together and carry the new trousers as well. But she clung to Jack's shoulder with the other arm and leaned on him perhaps a little more heavily than the situation required. Elizabeth noted that it was odd that the touch of one pirate had terrified her, but the touch of another made her feel safe and protected. Jack helped her over to her cubby. She was pleased to see that the torn curtains had been nailed back up across the opening. She would need to find out whom to thank later.

Jack stopped in front of the cubby. "Well, goodnight then, Lizzie. Try to have pleasant dreams." Elizabeth thought later that he had squeezed just a little bit before he let her go. Had Jack hugged her? He released his supportive grip, parted the curtains, bowed low and grandly gestured for her to enter. It was an oddly gallant behavior, especially for Jack. Elizabeth passed through the curtains into the cubby and turned toward Jack. "Goodnight Jack. Thank you for saving me."

"It's the Captain's job to keep peace among his crew."

The last thing Elizabeth saw before he dropped the curtain was the glimmer of Jack's gold teeth as he smiled in the moonlight. She turned away, carefully lowered herself to her knees and crawled to her sleeping space. When she reached her folded blanket, there was something hard lying in the middle. It was a very sharp knife with a green paua shell handle.


	6. Chapter 6 Bite Your Tongue

**Ch. 6 Bite Your Tongue **

After the incident with Fletcher, it became impossible for her to sleep at night. She tossed and turned, and simply could not make herself fall asleep. On the rare occasion she did doze off, nightmares woke her almost immediately. So she took to sitting beneath the main mast at night watching the night sky wheeling above her, and napping when she could between shifts during the day.

One night as she was watching the sky, searching for any sign that the ship was getting closer to home, Jack came up behind her. "So, luv, are you prayin' for a rescue from the big, bad pirate ship?"

"No, Jack, I'm just thinking."

"That's Captain to you, dearie."

"Oh. So sorry, _Captain_…." She paused. "Jack? I mean Captain Jack? Will you ever forgive me? I miss our chats, the way things used to be…before…well, you know what I mean, right? You never speak to me anymore."

"Nonsense, I speak to every member of the crew every day. Good for morale, savvy? But I'm not in the habit of having friendly little chats with people who have killed me, missy. Admit it, you killed me so you could get away safe with your fiancé' and live happily ever after."

Elizabeth went from wistful to angry in a heartbeat. "You only say 'good day Miss Swann', and then you disappear before I can reply. How many people have killed you that you still speak to at all? And that's not true or I wouldn't be here now, and I said I'm sorry! How many times must I apologize before you will believe me?"

"Let me respond to your statements and questions in order." He ticked four things off on his fingers. "One, what else should I have to say to my murderer? Two, one, but as seldom as possible. Three, I don't believe you. And four, never enough times. Let me get something straight in my own head. You kissed me like you meant it just before you chained me to the mast and fed me to the toothful wonder with the foul breath. Why?"

"I… I was so afraid, Jack, more frightened than I have ever been before or since. I didn't want to die. I realized that the Kraken was only after you, and if you got into that longboat with us the Kraken would swallow it whole. I chained you to the mast so I could live. I wasn't thinking of anybody else, not Will, not anybody, just myself. I just wanted to live."

She sniffled, and bit her tongue hard to keep the tears from coming out. She tasted blood. The frustration of not being forgiven was becoming intolerable. "But when I got into the longboat and looked at Will, I realized that I had just chained the man I really loved to the mast of his ship and left him to die alone. I very nearly jumped…er..."

Jack interrupted her, waving his hands frantically. "Hold up there! Reverse course! Go back and repeat what you just said!"

"Um…I very nearly jumped?" Elizabeth cursed herself silently as she realized that she had just let slip something she had sworn that she would never reveal.

"No, go back further."

Elizabeth sighed. There was no sense in trying to lie now. She looked directly at Jack and spoke

quietly but clearly.

"I realized I had just chained the man I really loved to the mast of his ship."

Jack looked all around him rapidly, as if he was seeking a way to escape. Elizabeth wondered briefly which way he would run. Then he fell still and stood silent for a long time twiddling the beads in his beard before he replied.

"I hope nobody heard that. Pirates do not fall in love, lass. Love is a foolish uncharted course through dangerous waters full of rocks and reefs. It leads to shipwrecks and ruin. It's a distraction, and it will only get you killed. You'd be wise to forget what you think you feel if you intend to be a pirate, Miss Swann."

"Well, perhaps maybe I'm not meant to be a pirate then, Captain." Biting back more tears, she turned and walked away to her cubby under the steps. When she turned back to look out at the mast, Jack was gone. For the next three days, Jack did not come out of his cabin. That was about how long Elizabeth's tongue took to heal.


	7. Chapter 7 The Stars & All Their Stories

**Ch.**** 7 The Stars and All Their Stories **

One of the older pirates befriended Elizabeth. His name was Phillip. At various times he told her that she reminded him of either his wife or his daughter. Philip would often sit with Elizabeth during meals and when they were both off duty, and just chat about his life. He told her about when he was a navigator for the Royal Navy, and he told her of his family. She heard his story a little at a time. His wife died when his only daughter was eleven. He was still out to sea with the Navy and there were no nearby relatives to take her in, so his daughter was sent to a religious boarding school. As soon as she turned sixteen, she had run away from the school and taken up with a privateer, or a 'licensed pirate' as Phillip called him. Apparently she had met him at Sunday services, of all places. The sisters at the school had written to Phillip mostly just to inform him of his daughter's sins.

Phillip had asked for leave time to go look for his daughter, but he was denied by his superiors. Their argument was that the girl was of age and it wasn't in the best interest of the Navy to lose the use of Phillip's services over what was deemed a minor family matter. He received a lashing for having the insolence to protest the decision. Until that day, he had remained in the Navy because it provided fairly regular pay that he could send home to his family, and later to the school that housed his child. He had never loved the Navy; but he had remained and done his job well in order to provide for his family. As he lay in his hammock that night, bleeding from the fresh stripes across his back, Phillip decided that since he was only responsible for himself now, he didn't need the Navy any more.

He jumped ship at the next opportunity and tracked down the ship belonging to the privateer who had run off with his daughter. By the time he found them, they were already married several months. His daughter seemed so happy, he said, that he could not remain angry at the handsome young man she had married in such haste. Phillip applied to join his new son-in-law's crew, where he served for several years. He had spent more time in his daughter's company aboard that ship than he ever had in her entire life. He said he enjoyed watching her climb the rigging like a boy, and he was proud that she was the wife of a ship's captain, never mind what kind of ship. And when their first child was born, the captain and his wife raised her aboard the ship. It was quite difficult and dangerous, yes, but they were unwilling to be apart.

A suspicious thought arose in the back of Elizabeth's mind, and she spoke before she could stop herself. "Who was this captain, and where is he now?" Phillip had shaken his head sadly when he told her that the captain was dead. He had been killed seven years ago in a battle with a Spanish naval vessel that had attacked his ship in the middle of the night. It was found later that the man on watch at the time of the attack was a Spanish spy, planted on board to help the Spanish defeat the privateers who regularly plundered their merchant ships. Elizabeth mentally asked forgiveness for her relief that the poor captain in question was dead and was not who she had first assumed.

"What became of your daughter and the child? Elizabeth prodded him to go on. Phillip continued. There was one daughter born by the time her husband had been killed, and she had been about two months away from birthing their second. When the attack started, the captain had immediately ordered his wife and daughter into a longboat, and had been lowering them to the water when he was shot in the back by one of the Spaniards. The rest of the crew went berserk when the captain fell, and attacked the Spaniards with vengeance in mind. His wife and daughter got away in the chaos of the battle. Phillip had been caught up in the fight, and did not know what had happened to them until later. He didn't find them for several weeks. Fortunately she had made it to the nearest island, Tortuga, and had been taken in by acquaintances of her husband's. She received a small compensatory sum since he had been employed, such as it was, by the British government. But it was just enough to allow her to start a new life with her children.

"And now she runs the nicest pub and boarding house on Tortuga!" Phillip finished proudly. Elizabeth pitied the poor woman, left with two small children and no husband. She made a mental note to find this boarding house next time they landed on the island.

"So how did you end up on the Black Pearl?" Elizabeth asked. Phillip said he had heard about Jack from the privateer years earlier. The few survivors of the privateer's crew were left at loose ends after his death. Phillip had chanced upon Jack and some of his men in a pub shortly after Jack had gotten the Pearl back from Barbossa. He had introduced himself to Jack. After a few rounds of drinks, Jack had learned that Phillip was a cracking good navigator and insisted that he join the Pearl's crew. Phillip had been with Jack's crew for much of the past three years. He had been ashore at his daughter's recovering from an injury when the whole Kraken disaster had happened. Gibbs had sought him out before they left on the rescue mission.

"But Miss Eliz, this'll be my last voyage with the Pearl".

"Why, Phillip?" Elizabeth looked at the older man, startled by his statement.

"Well, it's like this. I'm losin' my eyesight. It's a bad navigator who can't read the charts. I won't be of use for very much longer." Elizabeth felt very bad for the poor man. He'd had a rough life the past several years.

"What will you do then?"

"I'll be swallowin' the anchor right soon".

Elizabeth did not know what this meant, but it did not sound good. "Oh no!" she said. "Surely there is something less…drastic that you could do instead of that? It sounds so…final!"

Phillip laughed. "Don't fret, lass, it's not what you're thinking'. That just means I'll be retiring to someplace on dry land. I've got a bit put aside, and I'll probably get a place on Tortuga to be near my daughter and my granddaughters. Maybe I'll even help out at the pub if I'm needed." Elizabeth blushed a little at her error, but she felt better about his future.

She asked Phillip if navigating was very hard to learn. It was something that Gibbs hadn't had her try, and she had been curious about it. Phillip replied that he learned all he knew at the elbow of a very good Naval captain and his ship's navigator. They had drilled him until he knew nearly all that they knew. "You need to know how to read the heavenly bodies before you ever look at a navigation chart." He went below, and came back shortly with some tattered charts of the night sky. He unrolled one and pointed at a constellation. "See that group of stars there?" Elizabeth looked where he was pointing and said "Oh yes, that's the Great Bear! I know that one! And the Lesser Bear is right there, where the Great Bear points to it." She pointed a finger at another constellation on the chart as she spoke.

Phillip was quite surprised. "Where did you learn that, Miss Eliz?"

"I learned it in my studies" was her reply.

Phillip persisted. "Last I heard learnin' about the skies is not something a lady would need to know."

"Well, I suppose I didn't actually learn it from my tutors. Father had many books in his library, and I loved to read about the sea. Learning about the sky seemed to be an important part of learning about the sea. So I taught myself as much as I could from the books. I would sit out on my balcony late at night and find the constellations I'd read about."

Phillip nodded, impressed at the young woman. He pointed to another constellation. "What's that one then?" he asked.

Elizabeth thought for a moment and then replied "Cassiopeia, the queen".

"Good, an' that one?" he pointed again.

"That's the Swan; of course I know that one!" Elizabeth smiled. She took over from Phillip then, and began pointing at the chart. "That's the Dragon, and that's the Lyre, and there's the Giraffe, and there's the King, and Pegasus…"

Phillip interrupted her. You know more constellations already than I did after my first month at sea! And you can read, which adds to the bargain. If you had an interest in learning navigation, I do believe that you could become very skilled at it."

Elizabeth smiled. "I never fancied reading maps, but I do love the skies."

"Then perhaps you could be an astronomer?" Phillip suggested.

"I think I would like that very much." This was more like the pirate fantasies she'd had as a child than anything that had happened since she'd boarded the ship.

When Elizabeth ended dog watch the next night, Phillip soon appeared with a small bag of instruments. He pulled out a small battered compass, a wooden object shaped like a quarter of a pie, and a small round brass device that looked much like a pocket watch.

"This you'll recognize, although the compass needle might need a lodestone touched to it to true it up. Jack's got one I can use for that." "This", he picked up the wooden thing, "is a quadrant. And this is an astrolabe. It may be a bit much for ye for now, but the quadrant's something you can learn right easily."

"Where did all these things come from?" Elizabeth asked him.

"This was my kit from way back when I was first learnin' navigation. All the ships have their own equipment, but I needed my own set to do my lessons on my own time. I always thought I'd give it to one of my grandsons someday. But my Alison's got all girls and she'd rather they not take to the sea like she did. I'd rather see these be used than rot in my sea trunk, so I'm givin' them to you, if you think you'd like to learn'em."

Even in the dark, Phillip could see Elizabeth's glowing smile. "Yes, I would love to learn how to use these! Thank you!"

Philip gave her astronomy lessons each night after supper if the sky was clear and neither of them had first watch, which went from eight o'clock until midnight. Philip was feeling his age lately, and he had a very hard time staying up much later than midnight. Soon Elizabeth was able to determine the ship's basic heading by locating various constellations and determining their height in the night sky. It wasn't very precise and she was unable to tell where they were on the ocean without using navigation charts, but she found it to be very interesting. It felt good to learn something that used her brain instead of her muscles for a change. It had been several weeks since she had joined the crew of the Pearl, and she was settling into life on board the ship. She was beginning to fall into the daily rhythm of ship's life. It was starting to feel like home, almost.

The Black Pearl slowly worked her way down the western coast of North America. The ship needed to be provisioned every few weeks during their journey back to the Caribbean. Jack continually refused to allow Elizabeth to go ashore. She was always left aboard the ship with the youngest crewmen, instructed to watch the ship and raise a cry if problems ensued. After the incident with Fletcher, Elizabeth did not worry about being attacked by other crew members again. Jack had made it very clear that she was not to be bothered. Plus, given the age of the other pirates left behind, it felt more like playing nanny at times. But when she complained at not being allowed to go on shore leave, Jack's only response was that she hadn't earned it yet. And then he was off in the longboat with the rest of the crew without asking so much as whether she wanted anything brought back to her.

The boys who were also left behind explained to her that seniority was involved in getting shore leave, but Elizabeth didn't think it was fair. She desperately wanted to go ashore but she knew she was only begging for trouble if she tried to make Jack see things her way. It appeared that she would not get off the ship until someone younger joined the crew, or by chance Jack somehow finally deemed her worthy to go ashore. So the weeks passed and she said nothing, performing her duties as she was ordered and itching all the while.


	8. Chapter 8 Back To The Present

**Ch. 8 Back to the Present**

Elizabeth was roused from all these memories by footsteps on the deck next to her, and before she could move Jack tripped on her outstretched legs, barely catching himself on the base of the mast. He looked down at her.

"Miss Swann, has insomnia got you out here yet again?"

"No. Well, yes. I should just take all the night watches; I'm up all night anyway."

"That would make you quite popular with the crew, I'm sure."

"Actually I've been thinking Jack, er, Captain. I believe I should leave the Pearl and find some other way to get back to the Caribbean. It's obvious that you don't want me aboard. You find my presence distasteful. I can't say I blame you; after all I did get you killed. So if you would be so kind as to have me taken ashore the next time the Pearl finds a port, I would be much obliged. I will find another pirate ship on which to serve."

"You will do NO SUCH THING!" Jack's reply was quick and angry.

Elizabeth snapped back at him. "And why not? It would certainly be better for all parties concerned if I were elsewhere. It's not like the Pearl can't get along fine without me. And who are you to make my decisions for me anyway, mister 'a pirates life is freedom'? Am I not also a pirate, free to make my own choices? I shall seek out another pirate captain and ask to join his crew as soon as I am able."

"Do you recall your 'friend' Mister Fletcher?"  
Elizabeth shuddered involuntarily at the mention of the man's name. She wished she could forget him. His face haunted her when she tried to sleep, and her throat still ached at times from his attempt to choke her. The terror that the man had inflicted on her was still too fresh to erase from her mind.

"The only reason that he did not follow through to his intended conclusion was that I interrupted him. No one else on board would have interfered had they known what was happening. In fact I'd wager that several of the men would have gladly participated, had they known his intentions, Code or otherwise. That whole incident could have gotten a lot uglier than it did. It could have ended in another mutiny attempt, and possibly in your death as well."

Elizabeth started to speak. "But—"

Jack interrupted her. "You asked to join my crew. You accepted all the risks without even knowing what they were. On any other pirate ship the captain would most likely be the first one to insist on 'his fair share' of the lovely wench who asked to join his crew, and the rest of the crew would be standing in line for a turn when he was through with you. If you were so unfortunate as to survive that experience, you might be allowed to remain aboard to continue in that service if they thought you were worth feeding. Is that what you want?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. She had never considered that sort of danger when she had dreamed about becoming a pirate. The thought of being forced to serve as ship's whore to an entire crew of pirates brought every detail of Fletcher's attack vividly to her mind. The sudden overwhelming rush of the emotions brought up by that memory coupled with the imagined vision of what Jack had described made the contents of her stomach rush to her throat. She fled to the rail and vomited violently into the sea, tears streaming down her face as she wretched. She had always considered her innocence of the ways of men and women something of a private mark of honor, but it suddenly seemed to her that it was possible to be 'too innocent'. What else did she not know that could threaten her life in this world?

When she finally regained enough control to stop heaving, she wiped off her face and sank to the deck with her back against the rail. Jack walked slowly over to where she was sitting, and crouched down so his face was level with hers.

"Miss Swann, do you so dislike life aboard my ship?" The question was so far from anything she had expected to hear that it took Elizabeth several seconds to wrap her mind around it enough to form a reply.

"No, of course I don't. The crew is mostly decent to me. I understand why there is little fresh water, and why the food is always brined and dried. The work is all necessary to keep the ship functioning at her best, and at the end of a day I feel like I have done my fair share. I have a mostly dry place to sleep, when sleep comes to me, that is. There is little to dislike."

"What do you miss about your former life?" Again, another question came at Elizabeth out of the air, leaving her struggling to follow the conversation.

"I miss my father. I hate not knowing what happened to him, if he's in good health or if he's even still alive."

Jack looked a little surprised. "Is that all you miss?"

Elizabeth felt herself blush, but she answered him truthfully. "I miss my knickers. These wool pants are

rubbing me raw. I long for some soft fabric between me and this wool. Well, you asked!" She smirked when she saw Jack's eyes open wide.

"So you miss your father and your skivvies. Is that all? I'm honestly surprised, Miss Swann. I expected a litany of complaints."

"There are a few other things I miss, but there's nothing to be done about them so there's no point in complaining. I miss baths for one thing. I itch fearsomely and I believe I have turned permanently black with dirt. I haven't had a bath since…" she thought for a moment. "...since the day I was to wed Will."

She looked away for a second, and then turned back to Jack. "And speaking plainly, I miss you. I have been unable to forget what I think I feel, as you put it. That's really why I want to leave the Pearl. You're a free spirit, Jack, and I won't be a burden to you in any way. I'd rather go away so you don't have to think about me and worry about me trying to trap you somehow. If you truly believe that love is a foolish uncharted course, I won't be the reef to sink you. I would rather have to find my own way back home somehow." She rose to her feet and turned toward her cubby under the steps.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her. When she turned back, Jack's eyes were huge and black in the moonlight. He opened his mouth to speak several times before any words came out.

"Let me ask you again. You kissed me before you chained me to the mast. Why?"

"I already told you, I was frightened out of my mind. I just wanted to survive!"

"That's not what I asked, then or now. Nobody ever understands me! Why did you kiss me?"

Elizabeth paused. "I did it simply because I wanted to."

"Not to distract me so you could chain me up?"

"No. I saw you leaving in the longboat alone, and then you came back. You did the right thing, just like

I said you would. I was sure we were all going to die. I wanted to kiss you so I knew how it felt before I died. So I satisfied my curiosity, just like you said I would."

Jack smiled a little. Elizabeth kept speaking.

"It wasn't until I saw the shackles on the mast that I realized I could save my own life. I acted before I thought. It didn't sink in until after I got to the longboat that you had called me a pirate. I knew in my heart that I deserved the name because I had acted solely in my own interests. But in doing so I ruined my own life as well as yours. Right that moment I only wanted to go back aboard the Pearl to die with you. Everything happened so fast…."

"So when you said you weren't sorry…."

"I meant I wasn't sorry for kissing you."

"You know, I went down the beastie's gullet smiling."

"Smiling? Whatever for?"

"Because of that kiss. And because I was doing the right thing for once, saving my friends. And you."

"I'm not your friend, remember? I'm the woman who killed you."

"Killed me and then saved me. I'm still puzzling that one out." He paused, frowned and half-closed his eyes. He appeared to be deep in thought. Then he looked back at Elizabeth. "But", he continued, shaking his head slowly, "pirates don't have…associations... partnerships... relationships...it just isn't done. Not safe. Having someone aboard that one cares deeply about could cause one to become distracted at a bad time and get one killed." He looked her straight in the eyes. "And being the…other participant in a relationship…puts one at risk of being kidnapped or attacked or killed by the first participant's enemies, of which there are many. Savvy? And if one of the participants gets killed, that leaves the other one to deal with his or her grief alone."

Elizabeth tried to follow his logic. Finally she found her answer. "But Phillip told me his daughter married a privateer, and they were happy for years before he was killed. He might not have been killed if things had worked out differently. Isn't the happiness worth the risk?"

Jack frowned as he shot back, "I know all about Phillip's daughter and the privateer."

"And?"

"I wish I could ask the privateer if being so happy for seven years was worth dying for."


	9. Chapter 9 Yes, Sir

**Ch 9 Yes, Sir**

The next few days were somehow different. Jack seemed to be constantly searching for something that eluded him. Every time Elizabeth looked at him, he was either scanning the horizon or staring at his compass. He said little to her other than the ritualistic "good day" greeting.

Elizabeth worked hard, and tried to learn everything she was shown as quickly as she could pick it up. The pirates had been teaching her about the rigging of the sails and which ropes controlled which parts of the huge sheets of black canvas. She soon found that her lesser physical strength made it more difficult for her to handle the lines effectively, but she tried just the same. One of the men taught her some of the many knots that were used on the ship, and gave her lengths of different thicknesses of rope to practice on during her free time.

She even befriended Mr. Cotton's parrot, quite by accident. While practicing a particularly difficult knot on a very heavy piece of rope, the big bird landed near her and began preening the other end of the rope into a frayed mess. Elizabeth did not realize that this was forbidden behavior. The other crew members all chased the bird away when it chewed on any ropes. So she let it chew, and eventually sliced off the frayed end with the paua shell handled knife. She gave the short piece to the bird, which held it gracefully in one foot while preening it into a tangle of sisal threads and muttering happily to itself. From then on, the bird came to visit Elizabeth several times a day, and even began to solicit head scratches from her by fluffing its head feathers and lowering its head when she was near. It would purr and mutter to itself with contentment while Elizabeth gently preened the white flaky covering off the small new feathers on its head and neck where it could not preen itself. Mister Gibbs saw her doing this one day and commented that the bird had never before let anybody except Cotton touch it without drawing blood. After he walked away, Elizabeth quietly thanked the parrot for trusting her. "Pretty girl, give us a kiss!" it squawked, before flying off to help Cotton, who was trying unsuccessfully to communicate with Ragetti using only hand gestures.

One afternoon the lookout in the crow's nest shouted "Ship off the starboard bow, Cap'n!" Jack grabbed his spyglass and dashed up on the quarterdeck for a better view. "It's a cargo ship!" he shouted. "Grab your weapons and man the cannons, mates, I do believe it's pay day!" He relieved the sailor who had been at the helm of the Pearl, and called out commands to the crew to adjust the sails for maximum speed. Taking the wheel, he turned the Pearl to catch the other ship. "Run up our colors!" Jack called happily. "It's been far too long since we've done any hunting!"

The ship was still far enough off that Elizabeth couldn't clearly see what kind of ship they were chasing. She ran to where three men were pulling rifles and pistols out of boxes and passing them out to the rest of the crew. She took a pistol, tucked it into her belt, took a powder horn and stuffed a pouch of lead balls into her trouser pocket. She ran back to the rail and looked anxiously at the other ship. The Pearl gained on the Spanish ship easily because the other ship was heavily laden and sailing low in the water. It appeared to be outward bound from North America. Within an hour the Pearl had drawn close enough for Elizabeth to get a good look. The other vessel was a small Spanish cargo ship with only three cannons visible. Not heavily armed, and not running with naval protection, she was ripe for the picking.

Jack saw Elizabeth on the deck and shouted "Swann! Get below deck and take cover! Now!"

Elizabeth looked at him, stunned. They were about to attack a ship and he expected her to go and hide? She opened her mouth to protest. Before she could speak, Jack came down the flight of steps in two leaps and landed on the deck before her. His face was scarlet with rage. "Are you going to disobey a direct order from your captain? You do realize that disobeying orders is mutiny, don't you? Do you have any idea what happens to mutineers, Miss Swann? Now are you going to do as I ordered, or do you prefer to become an example for the newest crew members?"

Elizabeth erupted in sputtering wordless anger. "Oh...how dare...oooooh!" Jack scowled at her and pointed at the open hatch. "Get below right now! Take cover in the cargo hold, and do not come back on deck until you are fetched!" Elizabeth's fingers trailed across the butt of her pistol as she locked eyes with Jack. In response, Jack's hand came to rest on his own gun, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

She snarled through clenched teeth "Aye, Captain, but you've not heard the last of this." She turned from him and went below. Still seething, she found a place between the large cargo crates amidships and sat on the deck, listening to the sounds above her.

She heard Jack command the crew to fire a warning shot across the bow of the Spanish ship, and a second later the Pearl rocked as the single cannon fired. A minute later, the whole crew began shouting. She heard the words "grappling hooks" and "board her, mates". The faint sounds of swords clashing drifted down to her. It seemed to be over in a matter of minutes. Soon the first of the crew to return began carrying down boxes and barrels from the other ship, laughing and chattering as if they'd just come back from a picnic outing instead of a battle.

Elizabeth could hear them talking amongst themselves as they carried down the plundered goods. There were only a few minor injuries among the crew members of the Pearl, just superficial cuts. The other ship had been pitifully armed, and was taken with almost no fight. They had run up a white flag within minutes of being boarded. One of Jack's crew who understood some Spanish said that the sailors on the other ship had believed that sailing on this side of the ocean would keep them from encountering pirates. "Fools!" he laughed, "Don't they know there are pirates everywhere?"

"Good thing for us they didn't, eh mates?" answered Pintel, setting down a keg of something liquid. "That were easy pickin's!" They continued to talk as they piled up boxes and barrels. The other ship had been stripped of their cargo, medical supplies and their food as well as any valuables on board. They'd been left with their lives and the cargo ship itself, which was of no use to Jack.

The cargo and food they had taken included coffee beans and cocoa beans, some crates of various tropical fruit, several weeks' worth of dried beef, one beef carcass that had only recently been slaughtered, six live chickens, two goats, and three small kegs of some sort of liquor. They had also gotten a small chest full of uncut gem stones that could be worth quite a bit to the right people. The pirates were quite pleased with their haul, especially considering how easy it had been to take. Some of them were disappointed that there hadn't been more violence, but others reminded them that Jack had ordered that no killing take place unless the Spaniards started it first. There was some voiced displeasure, but no one raised outright dissent against the decision.

Elizabeth sat between the large crates, her anger building by the minute. Jack had made her hide, and she had missed out on all the excitement. First he wouldn't let her off the ship, and now he wouldn't let her participate in raids. This was not how she wanted to live as a pirate. There wasn't any more freedom here than she'd had living as a governor's daughter, but at least the governor's mansion was more comfortable. She simply wanted to get off of the Pearl as soon as she could manage it, whether Jack chose to allow it or not.

When Mister Gibbs was finally sent down to tell her she could come back up, she stormed off to go sit on the fo'c's'le and avoided everybody. She knew that the next time she ran up against Jack it was not going to go well.


	10. Chapter 10 Land, Ho

**Ch 10 Land Ho!**

The Black Pearl continued to sail south down the coast of North America. They had finally reached a comfortably temperate climate again. Jack didn't tell anybody exactly where they were, which led to speculation that he didn't know himself. Sleep still eluded Elizabeth. She continued to stay out on the deck for over half of each night, itching, thinking, and looking at the stars.

She pulled Phillip's old compass out of her jacket pocket and checked their heading. They were heading south-east. If they were still sailing parallel to North America, Jack must finally be heading toward land, but where were they? She considered checking the latitude with the quadrant, but she had no charts to tell her where the latitude fell on the earth. The ship was running low on provisions again. They had eaten the goats and chickens early on after the raid, and the fresh beef was long gone. There was only enough brined pork, dried beef and fish for another week or two at most. Jack had avoided making landfall ever since she had asked to leave the ship and he had offered no explanation to the crew. He just kept the Pearl on the move.

A voice from behind her said "What does your compass tell you?" It was Jack. He was holding a bottle of rum and wobbling dramatically. Elizabeth found it annoying that he could sneak up on her like that when he could barely walk.

"It tells me that we're heading toward the coast of North America, but not more than that."

"Oh, no, we are most definitely not headed toward America. Bad place, North America. Ports."

"What?"

"Ports. They've got ports there. No good."

"Jack, why are ports bad? We need food and…and…more rum! We can get those things at ports."

"Because. There's piratessss in portssss. Piratessss in shipssss. Thatsss bad…" And he wobbled off without another word and closed his cabin door behind him.

Jack did not appear until mid-afternoon the next day. When Gibbs reported to the helm at daybreak, the sailor on night duty had been given no heading, so he let the light wind take the Pearl where it may, only watching out for shallows or rocks. When Jack came out of his cabin, Gibbs asked what the heading should be. Jack looked puzzled. "Didn't I give you one?"

"No, captain, you didn't. You haven't said a word since supper, and all you said then was 'how much fish is left in that barrel'. Then you disappeared. We've been riding the wind with no course ever since. Jack, I don't know what's got you so vexed, but you'd better fix the problem soon or you're going to get us all killed. And if we don't get more provisions soon, we'll starve in the bargain!"

Jack went back into his cabin without a word. When he returned a few minutes later, he gave Gibbs a heading. Due East, head for land.

Early the next morning, the lookout in the crows' nest shouted "Land ho!" Soon those on the deck could see the distant outline of something on the horizon that wasn't the ocean. The unmistakable green and earthy smell of land wafted out to them as they got closer to shore. Soon the low roofs of small rough buildings could be seen through the haze that hung over the shoreline. There was no actual harbor or dock, so Jack gave the orders to drop anchors and lower the longboats. "Ten men with me, the rest remain aboard the ship. Bring weapons." Elizabeth joined the crowd of pirates waiting to board the longboats.

Jack came over to her, teeth clenched and jaw muscles twitching. "Get up on the quarterdeck, Swann. You're on watch with the lads."

"Jack…"

He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "You are not going ashore here, and that is final. Savvy?"

Elizabeth's voice was not nearly so discreet when she answered. "And why not? Since when do you own me?"

Jack's eyes were squinted with rage and he grabbed her wrist as he hissed into her ear. "That was an order. It's for your own protection. Now get up on the quarterdeck before I make a scene we will both regret!"

Elizabeth yanked her arm free from Jack's hand and screamed in his face. "I don't want to be protected! I want the freedom that being a pirate supposedly provides. Thus far all I've gotten is imprisonment on a ship where I'm not wanted. Let me off this barge!" And before Jack could stop her, she jumped over the rail into the water and began swimming toward the shore.

"So much for me making a scene…" growled Jack, and began tossing anything he was wearing that was leather or metal onto the deck; hat, belt, gun, sword. When he had dropped his boots, he dove in after her. Jack was the faster swimmer, and soon caught up to her. When he reached her, an argument ensued that the whole crew wished they could hear more clearly. All they could see was Elizabeth trying to slap him, and Jack holding her at arm's length and dunking her head underwater repeatedly. It ended with him dragging Elizabeth back toward the Pearl by the collar of her shirt and vest while she flailed and kicked trying to get free, cursing lamely all the while.

When they reached the longboats, Jack said simply "Disarm her and put her in the brig until we get back." It was a good thing for Jack that in her anger she had forgotten she was carrying the paua shell knife. He handed off the still-furious Elizabeth to the pirates nearest the ladder, and pulled himself into one of the boats. One of the men took her knife from her belt, and she was hauled up the ladder back on board the ship. Jack looked up at the men still on deck. "Would someone up there toss down my effects? And be careful of your aim, savvy? I don't want to have to dive for anything. I'm wet enough already." He turned to Gibbs. "We'll be back before sunset."


	11. Chapter 11 Salt, Oranges & Blood

_Ch 11 Salt, Oranges and Blood_

Elizabeth soon found herself sitting in the brig of the Pearl, which luckily for her had been reassembled by that ocean deity in a much cleaner state than it had been when it was destroyed. But it was still small and uncomfortable, and she was feeling more miserable by the minute. Her filthy clothing was stiffening as it slowly dried. The woolen pants were beginning to shrink a little, making them dig into her chafed skin even more. During one of the many dunkings Jack gave her during the argument she had lost the ratty scarf that held her hair back. Her dirty hair was even more tangled than ever. And getting wet hadn't dislodged any of the dirt on her skin; it had just added a fine layer of salt over the top. As she dried off, her skin began to itch in new and more torturous ways than ever before. She was furious. When Jack got back she was going to rip his hair out, one tinkly scruffy beaded braid at a time. How dare he talk to her like that! She watched the sunlight changing as it reflected on the wall of the short corridor below the open hatch leading to the deck above. It brightened to full morning, then high noon.

Ragetti appeared, bringing her dinner on a wooden plate, salted pork, hardtack, a desiccated orange and a mug of grog. He smiled, showing an array of missing, damaged and discolored crooked teeth. "Here Miss Eliz, 'e didn't say we couldn't feed ye! Eat up now! You need to keep up your strength!"

"Where did the orange come from, Mister Ragetti? We haven't had oranges for weeks."

"Oh, I've been savin' it for a special occasion-like!" He beamed at her again, and set the plate down near the bars where she could reach the food. "Well, I've got to get back to work, see ya around!"

Elizabeth sighed. "Thank you, Mister Ragetti." Ragetti left, and Elizabeth picked up the orange. The peel felt like it was made of hard, dried leather. She tried to peel it, tore an already broken-to-the-quick thumbnail trying to pierce the tough orange skin, and gave up in disgust. 'What else could go wrong?' she thought as she slumped back against the bars of her cell, sucking on her injured thumb. She picked up the mug of grog and carefully maneuvered it between the bars so she could drink it. Oh well, at least the slop bucket would be clean…wait, there was no slop bucket….

The light coming through the hatch changed as the day wore on. Shadows changed as the sun went from east to west across the sky. When the sun's reflection on the wall turned to reds and golds, she knew that night was approaching soon. She had not heard the landing party return yet. She was anxious for Jack to return and let her out of the cell so she could take up where she had left off when he had tried to drown her.

Ragetti appeared again with another plate, this time with salted fish, hardtack, and more grog. She gave silent thanks that there was not another dangerous gift orange on the plate. The broken thumbnail still throbbed. Ragetti noticed the uneaten orange on the deck next to Elizabeth.

"Didn't you like the orange?"

"Oh… I just wasn't very hungry, Mister Ragetti."

Pintel had come down the steps behind Ragetti and saw the orange. "If you don't be wantin' it, I'd be glad to take it off your hands, Miss Eliz."

"You're welcome to it, Mister Pintel." Elizabeth handed the orange to him through the bars. Pintel pulled out a knife and attempted to cut the orange in half. The stiff hardened peel deflected the somewhat dull knife blade. The blade slipped, making a shallow cut in Pintel's palm, while the orange leapt from his hand, struck Ragetti in the face and knocked out his wooden eye.

Elizabeth watched the two pirates bumble around. Pintel cursed and held onto his hand, while Ragetti chased his eye across the floor and barely caught it before it rolled through a hole into a large cargo crate. At least it broke up the monotony of the day for a moment.

They eventually left, but not before Ragetti hovered like a mother hen trying to get Elizabeth to eat. She ate a few bites of fish just to placate him, and she was finally left alone again. The light and shadows on the wall shifted and dimmed further. But still the landing party did not return, and soon there were no shadows or light reflecting on the wall under the open hatch. Elizabeth brooded in the dark. Despite her anger at Jack and her overwhelming desire to get out of the brig and find a slop pot, she began to worry. What could have happened to prevent the party from returning? What if Jack never came back to the ship? Did someone else have keys to the cell door? And what _if_ Jack never came back to the ship? Her worry turned to anger again. Elizabeth hadn't gone all the way to the end of the world to save Jack just for him to get himself killed getting provisions in a strange country. If he got himself killed this time, she was definitely leaving him dead. But what if he really WAS dead? Worry rose up in her again. She teetered back and forth from anger to concern until emotional exhaustion finally set in and she dozed off, leaning against the cell bars.

She awoke with a start as she fell over sideways, landing on her empty grog mug and sending it rattling across the cell floor. The sounds of voices coming from above had startled her awake, but she couldn't make out words. She heard Gibbs and some of the other men shouting, and the sounds of pounding feet on the deck planking above her. There was still no daylight coming in the hatch at the end of the short corridor, but Elizabeth could see many moving shadows being cast from the yellow glow of lanterns on the main deck. She pounded on the bars of the cell with her hands and shouted "What's going on? Hello? Would somebody come tell me what is going on up there?" Either no one was free to come down to answer her, or they didn't hear her, because no one replied.

Eventually the din on deck died away, and Elizabeth could no longer hear voices or stomping. In the quiet darkness of the brig, she heard the ship's watch ring eight bells. Four o'clock in the morning. She was too upset to sleep, but still too exhausted to stay awake. All the nights of insomnia seemed to have caught up with her after the argument with Jack. She slipped in and out of a light sleep, still leaning against the cell bars.

A voice roused her. "I really should try you for mutiny, you realize. If you hadn't been so entertaining for the crew, you'd probably be dead by now. Are you ready to come out and be civil, or do I need to leave you in there a while longer?" She didn't need to see him to know that it was Jack. She turned to look at him. In the faint glow of dawn coming through the hatch, she could see that his shirt was missing, and there was a fresh bandage on his upper arm.

"Oh dear God, Jack! You're injured! What happened?"

"Bloody natives! We beached the longboats around a small point to the east, and walked about a mile to the village. When we got there the place looked abandoned, so we looked for anything we could eat. We found some nuts and such in a hut, and appropriated them, and suddenly the whole tribe turned up silent as ghosts and came after us with spears. I caught one in the arm, just a flesh wound. Mr. White was hit in the shoulder—he'll live but he'll take some tending for a while. And Marty of all people got hit in the leg. His legs are so short how they hit him there I'll never know. We fought them off and ran. Killed a few, so we won't be going back there again. Need to mark my charts... Fortuitously for us we found a gap among the rocks facing the ocean, a sort of opening to a small sea cave. We hid in there until the tide started to come in. By then the savages had gone, and we were able to get back to the longboats and get away. They didn't have the sense to burn the boats, and we're bloody lucky those spears didn't have poison on them, or I wouldn't be here talking to you now."

"I knew I should have gone along!"

Jack snorted. "And what could YOU have done?"

"I could have…stood watch while you explored, kept a lookout for dangers."

"And I'd probably be dead instead of just wounded. It's best that you stayed behind, although you certainly did give the crew something to jibber about with that fine performance today."

"There wouldn't have been a 'performance' as you call it if you'd just let me go ashore! And what do you mean you'd be dead?"

"If I'd let you go ashore, _you_ would be dead now! That was no place for a woman. It wasn't a port. It was just bloody savages in a stick hut village. You'd have become somebody's supper tonight or at the very least a decoration for their mantel. And if you'd gone along, _I_ would've gotten m'self killed because I'd have been looking out for you instead of paying attention."

"Jack, I don't need 'looking out for'! I'm not a hothouse flower! I'm not the governor's fragile little daughter. And I do not want anybody else treating me as if I'm made of glass the way Will did!"

Jack looked like he had been slapped when Elizabeth's words hit him.

She went on. "The question remains, Jack Sparrow. Are you going to give me the freedom that a pirate supposedly has, or are you going to keep me captive and 'protect' me from things that go bump in the night? Are you going to keep me wrapped in cotton wool, or let me live my own life?"

"Elizabeth, I'm serious. You could have been killed today. I couldn't let that happen. I can't let you go into places where I know it's dangerous. If something happened to you..." His voice trailed off.

"Jack, I am willing to take responsibility for my own safety. If I die in the process, at least I will have lived and loved the life I have dreamed about, for no matter how short a time. Are you going to deny me that opportunity to be who I really am, even after you called me a pirate? I can't help but wonder which of us you are protecting, Jack—me, or yourself?"

Jack stared at her, expressionless in the rising light of dawn.

"Here, you might be missing this." He handed her the paua-handled knife.

"Thank you. Now will you please let me out? I've been in here all night with no slop pot and I'm about to burst!"

Jack unlocked the door, and Elizabeth fled up the steps and across the deck to her cubby.

---

A/N: There is LOTS more of this story, I promise. But the next bit needs some editing before it's ready to go up. I'll post it as soon as I can! Isn't anyone going to leave reviews?


	12. Chapter 12 Chasing the Wild Goose

_**Ch 12 Chasing the Wild Goose**_

Later that morning, Jack approached Elizabeth as she was polishing a section of the ship's rail.

"Miss Swann" he began, letting her know that this was a formal Captain to crew member conversation. "I have given some thought to our earlier discussion, and have made a captainly decision. Against my better judgement, you are free to participate in onboard defense of the ship if such action is required."

Elizabeth smiled widely and she opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a finger to halt her, and went on. "However, I am denying you permission to go ashore until such time as we reach a port where I am sure you will be able to find safe passage to wherever it is that you think you need to go. This is in your own best interest, as a Captain is always concerned that his crew members do not get themselves killed needlessly."

She began to protest. "Jack—_Captain_—".

He interrupted her. "Your willfulness has caused me a sizeable amount of inconvenience and it's only my good nature that has kept you from being flogged for insubordination. When we reach a port that will satisfy both your requirements and mine, I will gladly be the first to help you disembark from my ship."

Elizabeth's face was stony and unreadable as she replied. "Thank you, _Captain_." She turned away from him and bent over the railing scrubbing at it with a vengeance, fighting to dam up the tears of anger and rejection that threatened to spill. When she had regained control of her emotions, she raised her head. Jack was at the helm and no more mindful of her than he was of the seabirds that were constantly swooping and diving for fish in the ship's wake.

---

The Pearl continued sailing south following the coastline. Jack's charts of the New World weren't very useful as they were more than a decade old. There were only a few ports depicted on the map of the island of California1. Upon investigation, most of those "ports" turned out to be nothing more than monasteries or convents surrounded by small communities of the faithful. It appeared that the New World was entirely populated with Spanish Catholics.

Elizabeth was not surprised when the provisioning parties returned with the occasional gold crucifix or communion chalice along with small amounts of food they had liberated from the monks or nuns. The most important thing they brought back, however, were several barrels of fresh water from the convent wells. The crew had been drinking only straight rum, strictly rationed, for some time because they had run out of water. Normally they were able to collect a little rain water from the sails when it rained, but there had been no storms of late. The water was important not only because they were becoming dehydrated, but because there was a general fear among the crew that they would run out of rum. They were also running low on food again, and the monasteries they had raided had not provided enough to fully re-supply the ship's galley.

Since Jack still wasn't exactly sure what latitude they were at, the Pearl sailed within sight of the shore as much as possible, and a constant lookout was set to keep watch for signs of a port city. One afternoon Tobias up in the crows nest cried out "I see a harbor and a tall church tower!" A cheer went up among the crew, and everyone rushed to their stations to prepare to bring the Black Pearl into port. The men drew straws to determine who got to go on shore leave. Four men were to be left behind on guard duty, as well as Elizabeth and the two boys.

Once again, Elizabeth was left on watch with Jacob and Tobias. She didn't bother fighting with Jack about it this time. She just gritted her teeth and waited for the moment when she would finally be able to leave the Pearl. She was surprised when the whole crew came back to the ship the very next day. When they left, it was assumed they'd be in port for a week or longer. The moods of the men who'd gone ashore ranged from grumpy and severely hung over to downright angry, but Jack was more animated than she'd seen him since they left Singapore. As soon as the food and water they had procured had been brought aboard, he began calling out commands to the crew. Soon they were under full sail again, heading south. Elizabeth thought that perhaps they were being chased, but she could see no ships behind them.

The whole crew talked about Jack's latest crazy idea as they worked. Phillip's opinion was that Jack was on another of his wild goose chases. He said that the previous night Jack had heard a tale of a place where the Atlantic and Pacific oceans were close enough together that a ship could be hauled overland between them, thus cutting nine months or more off the trip home. And the rumor had it that there was a crazy man who claimed to have created a way to do this. It sounded like madness to him, but Jack was hell-bent on finding this place. The problem lay in the fact that nobody knew exactly where it was. That didn't stop Jack. He'd been to Isla Muerta, which could not be found unless you had been there before.

----

A few days after they pulled away from the port city, Elizabeth walked past Ragetti and did a double-take. He was standing at the rail alternately holding a large conch shell to one ear and a hollowed out dried gourd bowl, apparently a souvenir of his recent brief trip ashore, to the other.

"Mister Ragetti, whatever are you doing?" She couldn't keep the question from bursting out, even though she immediately knew that the answer would probably make her sorry she had asked. He lowered the items and turned to look at her with his one good eye.

"Oh, hello Miss Elizabef! I been thinkin'… y'know how you can hear the sea in a sea shell when you're on land? Well, this gourd came from the land. So I wanted to find out if I could hear the land when I listen to the gourd while I'm on the sea."

He turned away from her, put the shell and gourd up to his ears and assumed a very thoughtful expression as he listened to first one then the other. Elizabeth put her hands to her temples and walked away shaking her head. Yes, she was definitely sorry she had asked.

* * *

A/N: 

1The story of maps that showed California as an island began with a mistaken journal entry by a Spanish explorer in 1602, and even though some 100 years later another explorer concluded that California was attached to the continent, it took a royal edict in1747 by King Ferdinand VI of Spain to establish that as fact.

(I tried to include a link to the history behind this but it won't display--if you want to read it, e-mail me and I'll send it to you privately...)


	13. Chapter 13 Weather or Not

_**Ch 13 Weather or Not**_

The weather had favored the Pearl on the entire journey thus far, with calm seas and fair winds to fill her sails. But things changed about a week after they left the port. The sky grew black at mid day and it began to rain relentlessly. Strong winds from the northwest attempted to drive the ship aground. The crew had to work round the clock to keep the Black Pearl in deep water off the lee shore. The usual daily routine of the ship was destroyed as everyone was required to man their posts almost constantly. No one got more than a few minutes sleep at a time. At times it took two men at a time on the helm to maintain control of the ship, which seemed dead set on destroying herself on the huge rocks of the coastline.

Elizabeth worked right alongside the men, constantly adjusting the lines on the sails as the wind whistled around them. The drapes on her small cubby under the quarterdeck steps were shredded by the wind, and her blanket blew overboard. After nearly a week of fighting the storm day and night, everyone was at the brink of exhaustion when the wind and rain abruptly quit. The sky remained cloudy, but the sails hung limp with only the barest of occasional breezes causing them to move at all. Gibbs looked at the sky and said thanks that the storm was finally over. Jack said "Don't be too thankful just yet, mate". He ordered the sails to be trimmed back to try to use the brief little breezes to keep them moving. When that was completed, Gibbs called out "at ease, men" and as one, the crew collapsed where they were standing. Within minutes the Pearl was covered with snoring men on every flat surface. Jack alone remained awake and at the helm.

Elizabeth curled up under the stairs and the combination of her prior lack of sleep and the physical stress and exhaustion of the past week allowed her to sleep deeply for the first time in months.

Deep in a dream, Elizabeth felt water on her face. She was so deeply asleep she was unable to wake up, until she heard Jack shouting "All hands to stations! Waterspout!" Elizabeth jerked awake. Her limbs were heavy and she was disoriented as if she had been drugged. She shook her head hard to try to clear it, and peered out of the cannon port. She could see nothing but waves and rain. Crawling out from under the stairs, she stood up on the deck and looked over the starboard rail out to sea. In the distance was a huge waterspout writhing and twisting on the waves. The wind had returned with the rain, and the storm was blowing the waterspout toward the ship. Jack shouted again "Run with the wind, men!" and the entire crew, groggy Elizabeth included, scrambled to raise as much canvas as they could. At full sail with the wind behind her the ship was fast…but the waterspout was still gaining.


	14. Chapter 14 Racing the Wind

_**Ch 14 Racing the Wind**_

The wind was still driving the Pearl toward the lee shore. If the sails were trimmed to keep her away from the shore that would slow her down and allow the waterspout to catch up. So Jack had to make a judgment call; how close did he dare to allow the Pearl get to the shore? He would let her slip toward shore for a few minutes, and then he, Gibbs and Cotton would haul on the ships' wheel and force her to straighten out. Then he would let her slip a little more to leeward and then they would haul on the wheel again. The ship zigzagged dangerously down the rocky coast with the waterspout at her heels.

The waterspout was still gaining on them. In just the few minutes since it was first sighted, it had closed the gap by more than half the original distance. Just a few minutes more and it would overtake them unless the wind changed suddenly. There appeared to be no way to avoid being caught by it.

One of the men up on the mainmast yard shouted "Cap'n! Harbor ahead!"

Jack gave the wheel to Gibbs and pulled out his spyglass. The coast curved away from them dramatically just ahead. Jack grabbed the wheel and pointed the Pearl toward the mouth of the harbor, which put the wind directly at her back. She shot forward and cleared the mouth of the harbor before the waterspout could catch her. Once she was past the high rocky wall of the harbor, the northwest wind was blocked and the Pearl drifted, suddenly slack sheeted. Using her momentum Jack steered her further into the harbor, remaining as close as he dared to the rock wall. The rain storm raged on, but without the wind behind it, it was just rain. The waterspout ran up to the coastline and was blown into the open harbor. It went right past the Pearl out into the middle of the harbor, where it blew up onto a tiny island and dissipated harmlessly,

The crew cheered and slapped each other on the shoulders. Then without waiting for orders, they set about furling the slack sails before the lines had a chance to foul and tangle. As they worked, the rain eased up until it was just a drizzle.

Jack peered about the harbor with his spyglass. "Aha!" he cried triumphantly. "We found it! And to think that all of you doubted me…!" He pointed toward something across the harbor off the starboard bow. Elizabeth squinted to see what it was. She thought she could see the gleam of something gold through the treetops.

She climbed up on the rigging to get a better look.. It was something gold—the gold leafed spire of a church!

Jack directed the Pearl toward the golden spire. As they drew closer, other buildings became visible. There was a sizeable port on the shore of this harbor, surrounded by a tall wall. The tallest building was the church spire they had seen. There were multiple docks and many ships of different types were tied up to them. They sailed on past the docks. The pirates were confused. Wasn't Jack going to at least drop anchor and let them go ashore? This was the perfect opportunity for them to get some much needed rest after the ordeal they'd been through. But Jack sailed on. Soon they were past the port and only jungle was visible on the shore.

Some of the men decided to confront Jack about this, and gathered together on the main deck below the helm. Before any of them could speak, Jack called out "Furl the sails and drop the anchor, men, we're at our destination!"

Still confused, they looked toward the shore. There were two small buildings visible, and a short low dock with several longboats tied up to it. In the water, it looked like someone had planted two rows of tall trees and cut off their tops, leaving the trunks sticking upright out of the water. On each side of the tree trunks was a dock. At the shore end of the rows of trees, there was a stone ramp leading out of the water.

Jack pulled out his pistol and fired it into the air, reloaded it and fired it into the air once more. A minute later one shot answered his from the shore. Several men came out of the small buildings, and piled into one of the longboats. Within minutes the longboat pulled up alongside the Black Pearl. The pirates became uneasy and many of them pulled out swords or pistols, holding them down at their sides.

A man in the front of the longboat called up "You are heading around the Straits, yes?"

"Yes we are", Jack replied.

"You have been told of the overland passage then, yes?"

"Yes:" replied Jack again. "Does it really exist?"

"You are looking at it!" replied the man. "May I come aboard and explain the terms of passage? There is no obligation and if you do not agree to the terms, you may sail on as you had intended."

"Lower the ladder, men" Jack commanded. In a quieter voice he added "Weapons at the ready!"


	15. Chapter 15 A Man, A Plan

_**Ch 15 A Man, A Plan…**_

The ladder was lowered, and soon a small man appeared at the rail of the Pearl. He climbed over easily, and stood comfortably on the deck of the gently rocking ship. He had a black mustache, and he wore a monocle and an unusual hat that appeared to be woven out of dried grass. He smiled constantly. The man looked about the deck to determine who was in command. Noticing the armed men, he raised his hands a little and said "I come unarmed, friends. I bid you gentlemen a good morning." He spied Elizabeth in the front of the crowd of pirates and bowed low in front of her, doffing his hat and holding it across his chest. "And to find a lady aboard as well, this is a most pleasant surprise!" He kissed her hand before standing upright and replacing his hat on his mostly bald head.

Jack came down from the quarterdeck in two bounds, landing in front of the man, who looked him up and down curiously.

"Welcome to Panama. You are the captain?"

"Aye, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl".

"Sparrow, you say?" The man looked very interested.

Jack looked pleased. "Oh! You've heard of me then!"

The man replied smoothly "The name Sparrow is familiar to me, but not a JACK Sparrow…"

Jack muttered "Oh bugger" under his breath, but out loud he said sarcastically "Of course, Sparrow _is_ such a common name…"

"That must be it," the man smiled. "My name is Juan Pardal." Jack winced visibly at the name. Juan continued. "But that name is too difficult for most English to remember, as your people say, eet is for the birds. So you may call me Panama Juan."

"So, Mister Juan" interrupted Gibbs. "Tell us about this overland passage!"

"Ah yes" Juan smiled. Juan smiled a lot. "How fresh is your Spanish history, Captain Sparrow?"

Jack shook his head. "The only history I care about is what I make myself."

"That is too bad, my friend. History can teach us so many things. In this instance, we use Spanish history to create a new way to get about the world. Over a century and a half ago, the Spanish invaded my country of Peru. They took much gold and silver from both countries, and they wished to get it back to Spain as quickly as they could. It took very long to sail from Peru to Spain around the Cape of Good Hope of Africa, but much less time to sail from Brazil to Spain. So the Spanish king decreed that a road should be built from the west coast of Peru to the east coast of Brazil. This road was used to haul the wagon loads of Peruvian gold and silver to the Atlantic Ocean where the Spanish ships waited."

Jack interrupted…"Wait, wait! What happened to all this gold and silver? Where did it come from?"

Juan continued "It was the legacy of the ancient kings of Peru. The Spaniards stole it all." He spat on the deck, making Jack wince. "The gold and silver are long gone now, but the Spanish road remains, and nobody uses it except the natives. So one day I think to myself 'Why should this road only be used for the wagons when it might carry the ships themselves?' And so my brothers and I spend the last ten years making preparations to take ships from the Pacific to the Atlantic in one month instead of ten!"

Jack thought for a moment before asking "So this actually works?"

Juan smiled a little less broadly for a second. Then he spread his hands and said, "We have driven the road with our ship carrier many times, but we have had no ship take the route yet."

Gibbs grabbed Jack by the arm and pulled him aside. "You're not seriously thinkin' of takin' the Pearl out of the water and draggin' her through the jungle, are ye?"

Jack looked at him. "Yes Mister Gibbs, I was. Wouldn't you like to get back to Tortuga in two months instead of a year? I know I'm not looking forward to sailing around the Straits in mid-winter, which is right when we would arrive there if we continue on our journey right now."

Gibbs looked a little pale at that thought. "I don't like this, Jack. It's not natural to keep a ship out of water for that long. She's bound to dry out and spring leaks."

"Let's find out more about this ship carrier before we enter any sort of agreement. Nothing's carved in stone yet, savvy?"

They turned back to Juan, who was waiting patiently, still smiling. Did the man never stop smiling?

Jack began "How does this work?"

Juan pointed toward the shore where the tree trunks poked up out of the water. "That is the ship carrier. We position your fine vessel on it, and tie her down safely. Then the mules pull the carrier up onto the road and across the isthmus to the Atlantic Ocean, a distance of about fifty miles as the sparrow flies. You and your crew may choose to remain on the ship during the trip, walk, or ride alongside in carts or on horses. For an extra fee, of course. We stop at night to rest the mules."

"And the fee?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"Three hundred pieces of gold" Juan stated.

Jack took a step back. "Three HUNDRED?" At the sound of his raised voice, several of the pirates nervously lifted their weapons briefly. They put the weapons away quickly after a subtle head shake from Jack.

"Yes, Captain Sparrow, three hundred pieces of gold."

"Will you take one-fifty?"

"Captain, you could not possibly know how difficult this undertaking is to accomplish. We guarantee that your ship will reach the Atlantic safely. But it takes many, many men and much capital to make arrangements for a business venture of this size. I have loans that I must repay. I cannot take less than the full three hundred gold in exchange for overland passage. I'm sure you understand. Of course if you are not interested, you are free to sail around the Straits as you had originally planned. "

"Mister Juan, I'm going to need to discuss this with my crew. Can we continue these negotiations tomorrow?"

"Of course, Captain Sparrow" Juan bowed low, still smiling. "I will return tomorrow morning to your ship and we can discuss further. Until then."

He touched the brim of his strange hat, turned and climbed swiftly down the ladder to his waiting longboat. Watching him climb down the ladder, Elizabeth couldn't help thinking that he climbed like a monkey.

_A/N:_

_Today's history lesson: Captain Manuel Rivera Pardal (aka Manuel Pardal Rivero depending on the source) was a Portuguese captain. He was given a letter of marque by the governments of the Spanish colonies in the Caribbean to act as a privateer, preying on buccaneers from other countries. He went to Jamaica in 1670 to challenge buccaneer Admiral Henry Morgan to come out and fight like a man and see how tough the Spanish privateers really were. While he was hanging around Jamaica waiting for Morgan to show up, Morgan and 1200 or so of his closest friends went off to plunder and ransack the city of Panama. Another buccaneer ship captained by John Morris overtook and boarded Pardal's ship and killed his crew. Eventually Morgan chased Pardal ashore and killed him there. My man Juan may possibly have been a descendant of one of Pardal's by-blows fathered while he was in the area, savvy?_

"_Pardal" means "sparrow" in Portuguese, and y'all know that "Juan" is Spanish for "Jack", right?…sorry, I couldn't resist._


	16. Chapter 16 Shipboard Democracy

_**Ch 16 Shipboard Democracy**_

Before 'Panama Juan's' longboat was even turned toward the shore, the pirates began voicing their opinions at once. Some of them were adamantly against taking the Pearl over land, while others felt just as strongly that it was the best choice. Within minutes several of the men had fallen into fist fights. Jack shouted at them to cease fighting, but they ignored him. Gibbs finally clubbed one of them over the head with the butt of his pistol. The pirate fell face first on the deck. The rest of the pirates who had been pummeling each other stopped fighting to watch him fall.

"Avast, ye filthy sea dogs!" shouted Gibbs. "Let the captain speak his piece!"

"Gentlemen", Jack began, then added "and lady..." in a slightly caustic tone. "You all heard Mister, um, Juan describe the conditions under which our fair ship would travel across the land between the Pacific and the Atlantic. Does anyone have any questions?"

A hand shot up in the back of the crowd. "How're ye goin' ta pay for this, cap'n? We haven't taken but squat in booty since we left Singapore, and three hundred gold is a lot o' money!"

Jack smiled. "You forget who I am! I'm--" The groans of the crew drowned out the rest of his declaration of identity. They'd all heard it too many times before.

He scowled at them for a moment, then continued speaking. "As we are a crew of free men, I believe it should come down to a vote to determine whether the Black Pearl's next adventure should be in the jungles of Panama or the icebergs of the Straits of Magellan. Mister Gibbs, would you be as kind as to fetch the voting stones from my quarters?" Gibbs went away mumbling something mostly to himself. Elizabeth heard "…come to no good, it will…" as he passed by her.

Gibbs disappeared into the Captain's cabin and soon came back carrying two wooden boxes. One was open, and contained a number of black stones and white stones. Jack ran his fingers through the smooth stones to mix them up before setting the box on a barrel in the center of the deck. The other box was covered, with just a small hole in the top. The closed box was perched on the base of the mainmast. Jack patted it as he spoke.

"For those who are new to the crew, this is how we make fair decisions aboard my ship. Each crew member gets one vote. Choose a stone and put it in here" he patted the box next to him. "It's white for aye, and black for nay. When all of you have voted, First Mate Gibbs will count the stones in view of everyone. Fully fair and all have equal say. The captain only votes in case of a tie. The issue to be decided is 'Should the Black Pearl take the overland route back to the Atlantic?' Aye and she goes overland through the jungle of Panama, nay and we sail 'round the Straits of Magellan in mid-winter. Now choose your stones one at a time."

The crew lined up in front of the barrel where the box of stones had been placed. Each man looked in and chose a stone. Holding their pebbles hidden in a fist, they dropped them through the hole in the top of the voting box.

When the entire crew of thirty four had voted, Jack asked Mister Gibbs to overturn the box onto the top of the barrel and count the stones. Gibbs shook it upside down until it didn't rattle anymore, then began counting. When he was finished, there were seventeen black stones and seventeen white stones in the box. The crew groaned. Jack smiled, and held up the white stone he had palmed when he played with the box of stones. "Prepare the Pearl for her first trip ashore!"

By the next morning when Juan returned to the ship, the Black Pearl was as neat and clean as she'd ever been. Decks had been swabbed with sea water several times to get the wood wet, all available empty barrels had been filled with sea water to keep the decks damp and free from cracks, sails had been furled and neatly reefed, and all cargo had been stacked and lashed down. The Pearl fairly sparkled. She looked ready to go to a party. A smiling Juan climbed the ladder, looked around and said "Captain Sparrow, it appears you have made a decision, yes?"

Jack replied "Aye mate, we're going to take your overland passage. But I have one condition—I'm not paying you until the Pearl reaches the Atlantic. If anything... unfortunate... happens to her along the way, anything at all, you do not get paid. Savvy?"

Juan smiled bigger than ever. "As you say, Captain. I promise you—"

Jack interrupted him, waving his hands wildly to emphasize his words. "Watch the promises you make while you're aboard the Pearl, mate. She'll hear you and hold you to them!"

Juan laughed. "Ah, you sailors are such a superstitious lot!"

Jack shook his head firmly, making his beads and dangles rattle. "No, Mister Juan, the Pearl is a different sort of ship. Be careful what you promise her."

Juan smiled and continued as if Jack hadn't spoken. He put his hand on his heart dramatically. "I promise, nothing will happen to your precious ship. I promise you, she will arrive at the Atlantic safe and sound, and you will pay me then."

Right at that moment, the Pearl's bow dipped deeply on the seemingly calm harbor, causing Juan to take a quick side step to regain his footing. Jack smiled back at him, gold teeth gleaming. He patted the rail of the black ship. "We'll both hold you to that, Mister Juan!"

Juan added "All will be well as long as you follow the instructions."

"What instructions are those?" Jack frowned.

"You must brace all the yards around to fore and aft to make your ship as narrow as possible, and all the sails must remain furled. It would be unfortunate if a sail caught a sudden wind and tipped the carrier. And there must be no weapons fired during the trip. They frighten the mules."

"Sounds sensible enough" said Jack, relaxing a little. "When do we start?"

"Brace the yards and secure them, and signal with a single shot when that is complete. Then my men will begin loading your ship onto the carrier."

Gibbs began ordering the crew to rotate each of the horizontal portions of the masts. It was a lengthy process requiring slacking and moving hundreds of ropes in order to allow the yards to swivel around the masts. Elizabeth fell to helping, but she had very little knowledge of which rope did what so she continually had to be told what to do. Eventually all the long yards were rotated and tied down so they pointed forward and backward along the ship's hull instead of across it. Jack fired his pistol.

Soon eight longboats full of men began rowing toward them. In the bow of the foremost boat was Juan. He shouted up "Captain Sparrow, we will tow your ship into the carrier. Tie these ropes where they are tossed if you would." As the longboats got close, men from each of them threw ropes up over the rails of the Pearl, some at the bow, some further back along her flanks. The ropes were attached to the longboats. The pirates tied the ropes off to cleats and belaying pins where they landed on the Pearl's deck.

When all the ropes were secure, Juan shouted to his crew in Portuguese. A large man in one of the boats began to chant, and all the longboat crews began to row in unison to the rhythm of the chant. The Pearl began to move slowly, following the longboats. Jack stood on the bowsprit, holding onto the lines and watching carefully as his beloved ship was pulled toward shore.

The longboats lined the Pearl up with the tree trunks in the water. As they approached, more men came from the buildings on shore, and ran down the docks next to the trunks. When the first longboats got close enough, their crews untied the ropes leading the Pearl, and tossed them to the men on the docks. Those men took the ropes and began pulling the Pearl in between the upright logs. As each longboat got to the docks, they too handed off the ropes to men on the docks. The Pearl bumped against the logs as she slid between them.

Jack shouted "Don't scratch my ship!"

Juan, now on the dock overseeing the operation, just continued smiling.

* * *

A/N: Gimme a break. So I took some probably impossible liberties with towing the Pearl in the harbor. But I wanna see YOU try to load a 20 ton boat onto a trailer using only manpower. ;)

I made up the bit about the voting stones. I wanted something a bit more dramatic than just a show of hands. Later I found out that the ancient Greeks used black or white beans or stones for the purposes of voting new members into various secret societies. I swear, I had no idea…


	17. Chapter 17 Like a Fish Out of Water

_**Ch 17 Like a Fish Out of Water**_

In a few hours, the Black Pearl was situated between the tree trunks. Jack was obviously unhappy with not being in charge, and paced back and forth from rail to rail making sure that his precious ship didn't get damaged.

The ropes that had been used to tow the Pearl were tied to the tree trunks by the men on the docks. A noise on the bank made the Pearl's crew look up. More thick ropes were being dragged down the stone ramp. The men holding them waded into the harbor, and attached the ropes to something below the ship. The ropes were fed through huge pulleys bolted to large trees on shore. Many teams of mules came into view, and their traces were hooked to the ropes. When everything was deemed correct, Juan gave the command to the teams, and whips cracked over the mules' heads. The teams dug in and pulled, and slowly the Pearl began to rise out of the water and up the stone ramp. The entire crew hung over the rails watching the ship's ascent onto dry land.

As it went up the ramp, the ship carrier became visible. The tree trunks were the upright portion of a huge wooden basket that was built onto the chassis of the largest carriage Elizabeth had ever seen. The wheels of the carriage were over ten feet tall, and there were eight of them, four on each side of the ship. The ropes that ran up to the Pearl's cleats were tied to the basket of the carriage. When the ship was finally clear of the water and all the way up the ramp onto more or less level ground, the shore crews put blocks behind the wheels of the carriage before allowing the mules to stop pulling. Juan returned to the side of the Pearl, and without asking permission, he scaled one of the ropes and hopped onto the deck. His wide smile exposed very large ivory colored teeth..

"So Captain Sparrow, what do you think of my invention?"

"Quite ingenious, Mister Juan. But I reserve my final judgment for when we arrive at the Atlantic in one piece."

"Ah yes, still skeptical! A sign of an intelligent man, Captain. My men will take good care of your ship. To that end, some of them will need to come aboard to make sure that all the lashings are secure. It wouldn't do to have the ropes come loose while going up a mountain, now would it?"

Jack frowned. "Mountain?"

"Of course! You study geography the same way you study history, eh Captain Sparrow? The land of the isthmus contains both mountains and lakes, and the road follows them. We can only go where the road goes. Now may I have permission for my crew to board?"

Jack scowled but nodded. Soon the deck of the Pearl was covered with strange men chattering to each other in Portuguese while they lashed ropes to seemingly every cleat and pin on the ship. When the ropes were deemed securely affixed to the ship, Juan's men tossed the ends to the crews on the ground who tied them tightly to many places on the carriage. In just an hour the Pearl was trussed up like a Christmas goose, and it was obvious that she wasn't going to easily slip off the conveyance. By the time they were through, the sun was slipping down behind the jungle trees and it was nearly dark. Juan's crew left the ship by sliding down the taut ropes they had affixed to her.

Juan returned to Jack after one last check of the on-deck attachments. "It appears that all is in readiness, Captain. It is too late in the day to start our journey now, so we begin at dawn. Your crew may remain aboard, or come down and join us at your discretion. It is many miles to Panama City from here by land, but we do well for ourselves here despite the distance."

The crew clamored for a chance to go down. But Jack disagreed. "The Pearl is vulnerable here. I don't want anything to happen to her. Nobody goes aground tonight. And double the watches."

The night passed without any incident. But the pirates could hear Juan's shore crew singing and laughing from inside the buildings until nearly six bells. They could hear the sound of the ocean on the shore, and jungle birds in the trees around them. They could also hear the distant voices of jaguars calling in the thick, dark forest just beyond the buildings. Everyone who drew lookout duty that night kept their pistols loaded or their hand on the hilt of their sword.

* * *

A/N: I'm thrilled to see such a huge number of hits on this story. But it has very few reviews. I'd love to hear what some of you lurkers think of it so far! The adventure is really just beginning! I wrote chapter 28 last night... :)


	18. Chapter 18 On the Road

_**Ch 18 On the Road**_

The first light of dawn came early, and with it came Juan and his crew. He invited a weary-looking Jack to come down and examine the carriage before they set out. Jack slid down a rope and landed next to Juan on the ground.

The carrier resembled nothing so much as the rough-hewn bare bones of a huge ship stripped of her outer hull. It was mounted directly on its axles except for the front pair, which pivoted. The eight wheels were rimmed with thick iron. The Pearl sat inside the basket of logs like a hen on a nest. The keel of the ship was suspended between the logs over five feet off the ground, and nearly every part of her was exposed. Dozens of ropes ran between the ship and the carriage, holding her in position. On the tongue of the huge wagon was a huge hitch pin that allowed the rearmost team of mules to be attached. On the crossbeam just behind the hitch pin was a single seat where the mule driver sat. Teams of men were hooking up pairs of mules to the carriage, four mules across.

Jack walked around the mechanism, testing the tightness of various ropes, kicking the wheels and observing the condition of the hull of the ship. He noticed that where the Pearl sat tightly pressed against the logs the barnacles that covered her hull were crushed to fragments. An idea came to him. When he was satisfied that the Pearl was soundly attached to the carriage frame, he climbed back up one of the securing ropes as easily as a snake might, and dropped onto the deck of the ship.

Mister Gibbs noticed it first. "I don't like the look on 'is face" he commented to nobody in particular. "'E's got somethin' on 'is mind and I can smell the extra work from here!".

Juan called up from the ground "All is secure, captain? Yes? Then we begin to move now!" He clambered up into the carriage seat. Taking a long thin stiff whip from a holder next to the seat, he cracked it over the heads of the rearmost mules and cried out "Aiieeeeyup!!" The mules nearest to him started moving. The ones in front of them only shuffled their feet at first, but when their comrades ran into their heels they too stepped forward. Slowly all forty mules began to walk. When they had all hit the ends of their traces, their combined momentum began to move the carriage. Thus the Black Pearl set sail across the Isthmus of Panama, bound for the Atlantic Ocean.

Many of Juan's men walked in front of the mules, using machetes to hack away jungle vines and underbrush that had grown up since the last time they had used the road. Others followed along next to or behind the carriage on horses, while another large wagon pulled by four horses tagged along behind them, bearing supplies for Juan's crew during the journey.

The pirates were fascinated by this new mode of travel—at first. They all leaned over the rail, pointing to things along the road and in the trees, excited as children on a zoo outing. But soon enough the endless vibration of the wheels on the rocky road coupled with the jolts and sharp bumps as the carriage wheels dropped into sunken areas began to get to them. Sailors are used to a ship's rolling motion, not the jerky bumping of an unsprung carriage over rough ground. One by one, the pirates began looking greener and greener around the gills, and soon many of them were heaving over the rails onto the road below.

Elizabeth, having been accustomed to riding in carriages all of her life, was not affected the way the pirates were. She suspected that the constant loud rattling of the iron wheels over the bumpy stone road might eventually give her a headache, but her breakfast remained where it ought. Jack countered the effects of the bumps and jerks by climbing up the rigging to hang high above the deck, where the shroud lines cushioned the movements of the carriage nicely.

The Pearl and its entourage progressed further away from the Pacific and further into the interior of Panama. The ground around the road was flat and level, and somewhat swampy. Juan's company had cut back some of the trees which had encroached toward the century and a half old road, but many of them were still close enough to be a problem.

The Pearl's yards were braced fore and aft, which meant they had been rotated to align as near to parallel with the ship's hull as possible. But the three masts in the way of the long yardarms kept them from being truly parallel, so they sat at a slight diagonal angle above the ship. The fore ends of the yards struck treetops when the trees were too close to the road. Occasionally one of the yards would catch in a palm tree, and as the ship passed, the tree would bend forward, forward, forward, and then spring out from under the yard, flinging whatever was in its crown into the air. The deck of the ship was showered with dead branches, birds' nests, whole coconuts, and once an extremely irate monkey that shat all over the deck before leaping off the ship. The aft yards would also sometimes catch treetops, but because they were behind the ship, whatever was flung from those trees usually fell upon the supply wagon that was following the Pearl.

The unusual caravan progressed slowly along the ancient road, further into the jungle, and further from the ocean. After several hours the crew began to adapt to the uncomfortable bumping motion of the carriage. Some of them joined Jack up in the rigging to get a better view of the jungle. Others went below and lay in their hammocks, swaying with the movements of the ship on the road and trying to pretend that they were sailing on very rough seas.


	19. Chapter 19 Monkeys and Mosquitos

_**Ch 19 Monkeys and Mosquitoes**_

Elizabeth felt something bite the back of her neck and slapped it. She saw a spot of blood along with the remnants of a small winged insect on her palm. She felt another bite and realized she was surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes. The men around her were swatting and slapping themselves constantly. She vaguely recalled reading something long ago in her father's library about jungle fever.

"Jack? Jack!" she called to him up in the rigging. He glanced down at her but did not respond. "Captain!" she shouted, irritated that he still wanted to play that game.

"Yes, Miss Swann?" Jack replied sweetly.

"We have a problem down here. We're being eaten alive by mosquitoes!"

From down on the mule driver's seat, Juan's voice drifted up. "Oh yes, I forgot that you English are susceptible to the jungle sickness. It does not bother those of us who live here. Have you anything on board to repel the insects?"

Up on the rigging, Jack looked puzzled. He looked around at the crewmen nearest him. They all looked at each other, and shook their heads or shrugged. Jack shouted down to Juan. "No, mate, not a thing!"

Juan shouted something in a language that was not Portuguese. A few minutes later a small and extremely thin man clambered up one of the truss ropes bearing a cloth bag. He tossed the bag over the rail onto the deck, and was gone before anyone could say a word. Elizabeth opened the bag. It contained shredded tree bark. "What are we supposed to do with this?" she shouted down to Juan.

"Powder it and mix it with oil, and put it on your skin. The mosquitoes they will not bite those who wear the cinchona bark."

Elizabeth looked around at the men on the deck. "How can we make this into powder?" Mister Gibbs said "There's a mortar and pestle below decks for grinding charcoal and sulfur for gunpowder." He sent one of the boys off to fetch it. When the lad returned, Gibbs took some of the bark and tried grinding it with the pestle. "Aye, that's easy! Here, you do it!" He handed the implements to Elizabeth, and walked away.

"Of course, Mister Gibbs", Elizabeth grunted between her teeth as she glared at his back.

She ground the bark into a coarse powder. As she worked, she noticed that the mosquitoes no longer tried to bite her hands. This encouraged her to continue grinding. When she was finished, she called out "Mister Gibbs, do we have some kind of oil to mix into this?" He replied. "There's a tub of coconut oil in the galley, bloody useless for eating. Use that."

Elizabeth ventured down into the galley area. In between the large barrels of dried meat and fish, she found a metal container of something that looked like white grease, but nothing that looked like oil. When she poked the grease with her finger, the surface immediately melted under her touch. Her fingertip smelled of coconuts. She brought it up on the deck. The tin immediately began to warm on the black deck planking, and the contents quickly liquefied.

Elizabeth stirred the powdered bark into the bucket with her hands. When it appeared to be well mixed, she shook the excess off her hands and rubbed them over her face and neck. Immediately the mosquitoes that had been hovering around her flew away. She applied the greasy substance to her arms, feet and ankles, and then called up to Jack. "It's ready!"

Gibbs directed the men to line up and get a handful of the repellant. They were instructed to cover all exposed skin with it. Jack came down from the rigging to get some, and carefully applied the oil to his face, taking great pains to avoid smudging his kohl. He then removed his shirt, and applied it to not only his arms and neck, but also to his chest and shoulders. Elizabeth forced herself to look away because she could feel herself blushing. But she didn't turn away quite fast enough. Jack caught her looking, and seemed to take forever to put the shirt back on. She found the passing jungle trees to be very interesting until she finally heard him clear his throat from up in the rigging.

Soon the entire crew gleamed in the dappled sun as if they'd been polished with wax. Elizabeth was sure she could not possibly feel any filthier. The dirt on her skin was now sealed onto her with grease. But with the oil on their skin, the mosquitoes mostly left the pirates alone. Ears and eyelids were targeted until the pirates learned how to apply the oil more evenly, but it was almost impossible to keep the buzzing terrors out of nostrils and mouths. They spent the day snorting and spitting insect parts. Many of them took to wearing scarves or bandanas tied over their lower faces to keep the mosquitoes out of their noses.

Several times during the day the caravan stopped. The first time they came to a halt, Jack called down to Juan. "What's the matter?"

Juan smiled up at him. "No problem, Captain. The mules they need to rest and drink water. Is hot and heavy work for them to pull your ship. We must take good care of them!" An hour or so later, after the mules had been tended to, Juan or another driver would climb up into the seat on the carrier and crack the whip to get the teams moving again.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Juan halted the mules once more. "Here we rest for the night!" he called up to the crew of the Pearl. Some of his men set up camp while others unhitched the mules and led them off somewhere. Soon Juan's men had a fire burning and the pirates could smell meat being cooked. They were not invited to come down and join in the meal this time, so they had to content themselves with their usual fare of dried meat and hard bread. Jack instructed them to keep careful watch, arms at the ready.

The jaguars were already calling to each other in the jungle as night fell. Monkeys leapt from trees to the yardarms of the ship and from there to other trees, as if the ship had been put there just to give them a shortcut across the cleared road. None of the crew slept well that night. The night sounds of the jungle were almost deafening—strange bird calls, frogs in every octave from soprano to baritone, thousands of different insect noises, dozens of species of monkeys, smaller jungle cats, and again, the jaguars, which sounded like they were getting closer.

Being on land did not ease Elizabeth's insomnia. She sat on the deck against the base of the main mast for most of the night, listening to the night sounds and trying to see the stars through gaps in the branches of the trees overhead. There were constellations she did not recognize, and she wished that Phillip was awake so she could ask him what they were. She tried to memorize what she saw so she could describe them to him in the morning.

She was surprised when Jack came out of his cabin near the end of middle watch. He looked nervous. He didn't look like he had even lain down, let alone gotten any sleep. He was holding a half-empty rum bottle.

Before Elizabeth could speak, he said "It's all wrong. It's just not good!"

"What's wrong? What do you mean?"

"It's too quiet!" Jack snapped.

"Too quiet?" Elizabeth couldn't quite stifle a giggle. "Are you deaf? Every living thing in this jungle has been screaming all night!"

"No, no, 's not what I mean. I can't hear the sea…the sound of the waves. I can't even smell the ocean anymore. I'm too far away from her. The Pearl's too far from her. 'S all wrong…shouldna done this…" his voice trailed off, and he took a big swig from the bottle.

"We'll be back on the ocean in no time, Jack! Just you wait and see!" Elizabeth risked a correction by not calling him Captain, but he didn't seem to notice.

He just shook his head and said "Can't happen fas' enough fer me, love. Me and the Pearl, we'll both dry up and crack if we're away from her too long."

Elizabeth pondered his statement for a while before replying. She could not think of anything other than "It will get better, Jack. You and the Pearl will be fine. I promise."

Even in his sodden state, his eyes flashed at the word 'promise'. Somewhere in the bowels of the Pearl, a board creaked loudly. "We'll hold you to it" he said quietly. He squeezed her upper arm for just a second, and then turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Elizabeth said. "Stay right there, I'll be right back!" She picked up one of the lanterns off the rail and dashed to the hatch leading below decks. She descended the steps as quietly as she could, and tiptoed between the hammocks that held the sleeping pirates, looking for the man she sought. When she spied Ragetti, she hurried to his side and hissed in his ear "Mister Ragetti, wake up!" Ragetti startled awake and Elizabeth hurriedly shushed him before he spoke out loud.

"Miss Elizabef, what's wrong?" he said as softly as his croaking voice allowed.

"Do you still have that conch shell? The one you were listening to?"

"Um…yes, I think so." He rolled out of his hammock and crouched down to reach for his sailors' trunk. He rummaged through the trunk for a few minutes, dropping various bits of things on the deck as he did so. "Aha!" he said a little too loudly, and several pirates snorted and grunted before settling back into deeper sleep. He held up the shell.

"Whatdya need it for, anyways?" he asked her. But she grabbed it from him with a quick "I'll tell you later! Thank you!" Then she turned and dashed away as fast as she could maneuver between the hammocks full of snoring pirates.

When she returned to the main deck, Jack was sagging on the quarterdeck steps with his head hanging, and there was much less rum in the bottle. Elizabeth hung the lantern back on the rail, and approached him, holding out the shell in both hands.

"Jack, I brought you something." He sat up a little to look at the offering.

"Wassat? Izzat dinner?"

"No, it's much better than that. Hold it up to your ear, like so."

She held the shell up near her own ear to demonstrate. She had to admit that the roaring sound in the shell did sound very much like the sea. She realized that she missed the sound too. Jack slowly took the shell from her.With a wary and suspicious look on his face, he slowly put it up against his ear. After a few seconds, his expression changed from suspicion to wonder, and then it changed again to a look of blissful relaxation.

"Is that better?" Elizabeth asked him.

"Ssshhhhhh!" Jack waved the hand holding the rum bottle in her general direction. He pointed to the shell with one finger, clanking the neck of the bottle against the shell as he did so. "It's the sea!" His smile was wide and genuine, and he looked happier than Elizabeth had seen him in quite a while. He stood up without another word and went unsteadily up the quarterdeck steps to the helm, rum bottle in one hand, and the conch shell pressed tightly to his ear with the other hand. Ropes in the Pearl's topmost rigging high above Elizabeth's head suddenly thrummed, ringing out tones that rang like the lowest bass notes of a cello.


	20. Chapter 20 Sounds In the Night

_**Ch 20 Sounds in the Night**_

In the morning Juan's men began hooking the mules to the traces before the sun even began to peek through the trees. It was barely light enough to see when the ship began moving again. The morning passed without incident, until a flock of blue and gold macaws flew overhead, screaming noisily to each other. Cotton's parrot looked up, shook its feathers and shouted "Shore leave!" Before Cotton could grab it, the big macaw took off after its fellows and was soon lost to sight. Cotton shook his head in disgust and thumbed his nose in the direction the bird had flown. Elizabeth asked him "Will it come back?" Cotton shrugged his shoulders.

The crew thought they were going to have nothing to do while the ship crossed the isthmus. They were all lying about on the deck when Jack stood up from where he had passed out on the quarterdeck the night before. He still clutched the conch shell in one hand, but the rum bottle was gone. "Look at the lazy lot of you!" he said loudly. "There's work to be done, and you're all lyin' around like lords and masters!"

"Captain", Gibbs began, "What needs doin'? We're not sailin, and the ship is clean as a whistle bow to stern!"

"Mister Gibbs, she's only clean above decks! She's covered with barnacles below her waterline and she's long overdue for being careened."

"But Captain, we can't careen her here, not while she's on this cart! Hey, that's my shell!" Ragetti's voice sounded petulant, almost whiny.

"Ah but you CAN careen her!" Jack responded with a gold-glinted smile. There's lines enough between the Pearl and the cart that rigging can be strung to support men alongside her. Make up bosun's chairs enough for ten at a time to work and take shifts with the watches. You can scrape and patch her while we're moving!" Jack looked pleased with himself for coming up with such a brilliant idea. The men just looked stunned. Elizabeth shook her head—only Jack could come up with such an insane idea.

The men reluctantly began assembling bosun's chairs, which were nothing more than a short width of board with holes in each corner. Through the holes they wove a length of rope which tied off at a height above one's head and connected to a longer rope that attached to the ship. They looked just like the tree swing Elizabeth had played on when she was a little girl back in England. The chairs were tied off to the rope cleats around the ship, and the pirates slid down the truss lines to reach them.

Soon there were pirates swinging on all sides of the ship, scraping off the barnacles that had attached themselves to the Black Pearl during their voyage from Singapore. As they scraped, barnacles dropped to the stone road and were crushed beneath the wheels of the large carriage and the hooves of the horses pulling the supply cart behind it. Birds of all kinds soon covered the road behind the caravan, fighting over the interesting new food source that was falling from the ship.

Jack peered over the rails to supervise the careening process. Every so often he put the conch shell up to his ear, half closed his eyes and smiled a wide, peaceful smile. The men in Juan's employ who followed behind the ship stared at the pirates as if they were all insane. They may have been right.

When the Pearl was fully scraped clean, the pirates began the messy job of patching up damaged wood and gaps between the outer hull planking. First, the damaged wood was pried off and hauled up onto the deck to inspect to see if any smaller bits could be re-used. Then new wood from extra planks in the hold was cut to fit the area and nailed into place.

The last step was sealing the patches and scraped areas to make her watertight again. This job entailed some of the sailors boiling tar on the deck, filling buckets with the hot tar and lowering them down on ropes to others whose task was to apply it to the ship. As the carriage moved, the ship rocked, the ropes swayed, and the pirates and the buckets of tar swung to and fro.

Pintel, up on the deck, prepared a new bucket of hot tar to lower down to his nephew. Ragetti was swinging happily on a bosun's chair and singing to himself. Pintel tied off the rope carefully—or so he thought. As he lowered it, the knot slipped, dropping the bucket of hot tar. It somehow missed Ragetti, and the bucket crashed to the road below. Jack heard Ragetti shout in alarm as the bucket went past him, and leaned over the side to see what had happened. He saw the bucket of spilled tar on the roadway below.

"You there! We can't afford to be losing ships' equipment! Go down and fetch that!"

Ragetti glared up at Pintel, who was peering down at him from behind Jack with an expression somewhere between apology and hilarity. Ragetti knew he didn't dare say anything to Pintel with the Captain standing right there, so he simply muttered "Aye, Captain" and slid down the truss lines to the frame of the carriage. From there he tried to judge the distance to the ground.

It was difficult to determine height accurately with only one eye, so when he leapt he fell harder than he had expected. He rolled a couple times, and landed in the underbrush alongside the road. By the time he got to his feet and back up on the road, the supply cart was already passing him. He ran back to where the bucket had fallen. Surprisingly it was still intact, but it was covered with sticky tar inside and out. Where it had rolled on the road, the bucket was also coated with a layer of dirt, small stones and bits of plant leaves and stems.

Ragetti picked it up and turned toward the ship which was already out of sight around a bend in the road. He started to run, but one of the men from the supply wagon stepped out of the jungle in front of him. The man was much shorter than Ragetti, slight in build, and had very tanned leathery skin and straight black hair that fell about his shoulders.

"No need to run. Too hot." the man said with a heavy accent. "The mules need rest soon, they stop. You catch then."

"What're ye doin' in the jungle?" Ragetti asked the man.

"Much drink last night." He smiled, showing large yellow teeth.

The two men fell into step together, following the caravan. The shorter man had no trouble at all keeping up with Ragetti's long strides. He moved quickly and quietly, and said nothing. Ragetti finally broke the silence by asking "Where ya from, mate?"

The man replied simply "Here."

"Yer from Panama?"

"I am of the Guaymi. We were here long before the Spanish came." He spat, expressing disgust.

"Yer an Indian then?" Ragetti was surprised. All he'd ever heard about Indians was that they were wild savages, not men who wore normal clothing and drank too much.

"So you say, not me", replied the man.

"You live in the jungle?" Ragetti's fascination showed in his face.

"No longer, but it will be my home forever."

"So you're from the jungle, but you don't live there now?"

The man nodded.

"Ah. I'm from England, but I don't live there now neither. Is the jungle nice?"

The small man turned his head to address Ragetti directly.

"The forest is full of spirits. Everything have a spirit—tree, bird, monkey, jaguar."

"Jaguar!" Ragetti exclaimed. "That's just a cat! What kind of spirit is that?"

"Jaguar is chief spirit of the forest. All others respect her, pay tribute to her. You pay tribute as well—all of you." He gestured toward the caravan, which was now out of sight.

"How do we do that?"

"Jaguar spirit give life and take life. Jaguar dark as night, you no see her move. You see green eyes at night, may be last thing you see. You thank jaguar for life, maybe she let you live. Maybe not."

The discussion was interrupted by noises from up ahead. The caravan had stopped to rest the mules. The two men caught up to it quickly. Ragetti climbed back up onto the carrier and shinned up a truss rope until he could get to one of the Pearl's ladders. When he was on the deck, he tossed the dirt coated tar bucket at Pintel's feet and said simply "You owe me. You dropped it, you clean it."

By the end of the day there was almost as much tar on the pirates as there was on the ship, and there was a trail of tar drips along the old stone road. They were nowhere near finished, however, and the task would be waiting for them the next day.

Elizabeth had tar all over her feet, hands and clothing where she had been bumped against the fresh tar on the ship as she patched it. She was well aware that she smelled quite unladylike. Weeks without bathing, followed by intensive perspiring coupled with the pungent aroma of tar could not possibly combine to create a pleasant natural essence. She was fairly certain that she had reached a new low in filthiness. But she was surprised to see the tar roll off her skin when she rubbed her hands together. The coconut oil in the insect repellant had made the tar unable to adhere to her skin. She smiled as she peeled the tar off herself. Finally, something had gone right for a change. She reapplied the mosquito repellant as soon as she could, and crawled under the steps to catch a quick nap before the sun went down.

When the caravan stopped for the night, Juan shouted up to the pirates that in a few more days they would begin the ascent up the first of the mountains. Then he was off to join his crew at their bonfire around a bend in the road ahead. The pirates sat on the deck with their food and grog. The jaguars sounded even closer than they had the night before. Jack ordered lanterns to be lit and hung on the rails with the intention of deterring them from boarding the ship.

Watches were drawn, and the rest of the crew went off to their hammocks below deck. Elizabeth sat against the main mast, still unable to sleep at night. Off in the distance she heard a scream. The sounds of the jungle ceased instantly, leaving an eerie silence. She leapt to her feet, as did the man on watch up on the fo'c's'le. The scream came again. It wasn't human, but it wasn't anything she recognized either. She heard snarling and many voices very faint and far away. After a few minutes all was quiet again.

"What was that?" Elizabeth whispered, hoping the sailor on watch could hear her from that far away.

A voice from behind her quietly replied "Jag-u-ars." She nearly jumped out of her skin and clutching her chest to calm her wildly beating heart, she turned to see who had spoken. It was Jack. The conch shell was nowhere to be seen.

"You nearly scared me to death!"

"Nervous, are we?"

"Of course I am. Did you hear that scream? What was that?"

"Judging from the sound, the jag-u-ars are eating well tonight. My guess is that our friend Juan is short either a mule or a lackey."

Elizabeth shivered visibly, and Jack noticed.

"You're armed? Pistol and sword?"

"Knife, anyway," she said softly. "No sword, and I turned the pistol back in to the ships armory long ago."

"Here." She heard the sound of a buckle being undone. Jack took her wrist and placed something in her hand. It was his sword belt, with his sword still in the scabbard. Elizabeth looked from the sword to his face and back several times.

"You'll need something bigger than that knife if you need to defend yourself. See to it that Gibbs finds you a sword of your own first thing in the morning." He turned and was gone before she could speak.

_What was that all about?_ , she thought as she slumped back down against the base of the mast and rested the heavy sword, scabbard and belt across her lap.

Just before dawn, Elizabeth happened to glance up at the yard of the foremast. Two green eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting the light of the lanterns on the ship's rails. They appeared to be looking right at her. Very slowly, very carefully and deliberately, Elizabeth scooted herself backward around the base of the mainmast until she was behind it, facing Jack's cabin door. Heart pounding wildly, she began edging toward the cabin wall. When she reached it she leaned against the wall, trying not to breathe loudly. She was sure the creature knew right where she was, but she didn't want to encourage it to come down. She couldn't see it from her position.

Counting on luck that had not shown itself to her so far on the journey, she pulled Jack's sword from the scabbard, and put the belt down quietly. With the sword in one hand, she began to crawl slowly along the cabin wall to get to her cubby under the steps. Just as she slid under the curtains into her sanctuary, the crewman on watch on the fo'c's'le rang the ship's bell four times to signify six o'clock. She heard a low snarl from the foremast. She pulled one of the sheets loose from the nails on the bottom of the steps, and peeked up at the foremast through the resulting hole. The early light of dawn showed her that the foremast yard was unoccupied. But she still waited until it was fully light before scurrying out to retrieve the sword belt.


	21. Chapter 21 The Damsel and the Damascene

_**CH 21 The Damsel and the Damascene**_

Juan did not appear right at the first light of dawn as he had the previous day. It was fully light and nearly eight o'clock before he came back to the ship, followed by men leading the mules. He said nothing to anyone. Elizabeth watched as the mules were hooked to the traces. Today one of the animals was a horse instead of a mule. Elizabeth silently hoped the jaguars left enough men and mules alive to get the Pearl all the way to the Atlantic. There was some sort of argument in Portuguese and several other languages going on between many of the men on the mule crew. The tension on the ground could be clearly felt by everyone up on the Pearl.

Elizabeth sought out Mister Gibbs, and told him of Jack's order to get her a sword. Gibbs went below and rummaged through the small armory chest where extra weapons were kept in case of need. He eventually returned with a relatively long straight sword that was covered with rust and a very old scabbard on an even older leather belt. "'s goin'ta need some work to clean it up, but it's perfectly good. It's all yours!" He handed it to her and looked at her as if he was expecting something.

Elizabeth smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Gibbs. Is there a repair kit on board?"

Gibbs looked surprised. He obviously hadn't gotten the response he had expected. "Ye know how to work on a sword?"

"I did associate with a blacksmith whose specialty was making swords…I managed to learn a few things about the trade myself."

Gibbs looked a little disappointed. "Is there nothing on earth ye don't know somethin' about?" He chuckled to himself and said "I'll find what ye need for the task", and went off in search of the proper tools.

He returned shortly with a muslin bag of fine sand, another bag of coarser sand, a worn rectangular block of smooth dense gray stone, a rag and a small clay flask with a cork in the top. "Ye can use the oil on the stone and on the leather as well, but don't use it all up, y'hear me?" Elizabeth put the items in her cubby with the old sword and belt, and attempted to mentally prepare herself for another day of applying tar to the hull of the ship.

As soon as the teams of animals were hitched up, Juan cracked the whip and they started off through the jungle. It was already intensely hot and humid even though it was not yet mid-morning. There was no breeze at all to stir the thick damp air. The temperature continued to increase as the day wore on. The pirates resumed tarring the hull of the Black Pearl, choking on insects that swarmed around them as they hung off the ship. They were miserable. The mule breaks were intolerable because an even greater number of insects swarmed around the ship when they were not moving.

Eventually Juan halted the carrier for the night, and his men moved to unhitch the mules. Juan spoke to them in Portuguese, and many of them scowled at whatever he had said. Some of them moved off in a group to speak among themselves before returning to the mules.

The pirates were glad to see night fall because it meant that they could put aside the hot tar. But the heat and humidity were relentless and the air was stifling. The crew spread out all over the open deck as they ate their evening meal by lantern light. Jack sat alone at the top of the quarterdeck steps, looking tired and wilted. Elizabeth approached him with her plate and mug. He tried to wave her away, but she spoke to him anyway. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Are you at least thirsty then?"

"Got rum?"

"I've got grog."

"It'll do". He took her mug and drained it in one gulp.

"Mister Gibbs got a sword for me this morning."

"Good."

"It's all rusty though. I need to clean it up and sharpen it…and oil the belt and scabbard…and put new leather on the grip…and reattach the buckle." She realized she was complaining and quickly added "But it's quite nice otherwise!"

Jack laughed, just once, a sharp abrupt sound. "That should take some time. Give mine back when yours is in working condition."

Suddenly he froze in place. He cocked his head a little to one side. Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask what he had heard but Jack raised a finger to signal her to stay quiet. Elizabeth strained her ears, trying to hear what he was hearing. At first all she could make out were the never ceasing jungle sounds and the occasional low voices of the pirates speaking to each other on the deck. But then she heard a distant rushing sound. It sounded like waves crashing up and sliding down a pebbled shore. A breeze blew across her face, ruffling her sweaty hair and cooling her skin. The night wind rustled the jungle trees. It rushed and hushed in turn, like the ebb and swell of ocean surf on sandy beaches. She glanced at Jack. His eyes were half closed, and there was a big smile on his face.

* * *

She left him to his reverie, and ate her meal quickly. After returning her dishes to the galley, she gathered up the old sword and the conditioning kit. She took the candle lantern down from the nail on the mainmast and seated herself in her usual spot. The sword stuck in the scabbard when she attempted to remove it. She braced it between her feet and pulled hard on the sword, nearly hitting herself in the face when it suddenly came loose.

The sword was as long as her arm. Despite its terrible condition it seemed to be well balanced and felt comfortable in her hand. But even at first glance she could tell it was going to take a lot of effort to restore it to fighting condition. She laid the sword across her lap and set to work.

First she turned her attention to the leather grip around the handle. The leather was cracked and loose on the handle, making the sword twist when held. It had been wrapped with twisted wire to give it support and texture as well as to add decoration. The wire poked into her palm when she gripped the sword; it was broken or cut and beginning to come off the grip. She carefully removed it from the hilt of the sword and rolled it into a coil. She put the coil into her vest pocket with the intention of eventually having it reattached. Forging metal was one skill she hadn't had the opportunity to learn from Will.

The brittle leather fell to pieces in her hands after the wire was removed. The metal pommel ball on the end seemed to be carved into some sort of shape, but in the dim flickering lantern light she could not make it out. The pommel was the only part of the sword that wasn't rusty. The ornate guards around the handle were as rusty as the blade itself.

Elizabeth picked up the small bag of coarse sand and rubbed it lightly along the length of the blade to loosen the rust. The rust started coming off as red powder on her hands. When she could see bare metal along most of the blade, she wiped the sword with the rag and then switched to the bag of fine sand. A little oil applied on the bag of fine sand helped it to slide along the flat of the blade smoothly. The finer sand removed the smaller spots of rust that the coarse sand had not loosened. Time flew by as she became engrossed in her task. She was surprised to hear the midnight watch ring four bells and realized she'd been at the task for over six hours.

Once the blade was free of the worst of the rusty coating she was able to examine it under the lantern. The blade was made of layers of light and dark steel swirled together, as if the grain pattern of fine wood had been reproduced in the metal. Elizabeth gasped sharply in surprise. _Damascus steel! s_he breathed to herself. _Will would be so envious. He could make this sword beautiful again._ It saddened her to think that Will, the only person she knew who would truly appreciate what the sword really was, would never see it. She leaned back against the mast and old memories of watching Will polishing swords came to her mind.

Her father had quite often left to her own devices at the governor's mansion, at least until she came of age and had to learn to be a proper lady. She had been friends with Will ever since they had come to Port Royal together as twelve-year-olds, so she had spent a lot of time standing outside the smithy window watching him work. The drunken Mister Brown had often passed along to his young apprentice menial tasks such as cleaning swords for careless naval officers who had let their weapons get rusty. She had watched Will recondition enough blades that she was certain she could do it by herself. She stiffened her shoulders and resolved to restore the blade to its former glory on her own. She didn't need Will's help.

There were still some places where rust pitted the sword, and those were treated to another round with the coarse sand. When the blade felt smooth to her touch all along its length and she could see no more rust, she switched back to the fine sand bag to polish the surface. She could see a glimmer of her reflection in the steel when she finished. Then she put a little of the oil on the whetstone and gently stroked the stone along the blade's edges. It had a few deeper nicks in the edge that would not come out without a grindstone, but she was able to put a satisfactory edge on the sword with the whetstone. When it felt sharp enough to her thumb, she lightly coated the blade with oil to prevent it from rusting again soon.

The leather belt was in better shape than the leather grip had been. It just needed a good oiling to soften it up again, and the buckle needed to be stitched back on to the end where the leather lacing had broken. Elizabeth coated the leather with the oil and set it aside to let it soak in. Then she picked up the scabbard. She could feel lengths of decorative metal at both the top and the bottom. They were rusty and barely visible against the dark leather that covered

the scabbard in between them. That leather was dry and hard, but it felt intact to her questioning fingers.

She applied a little oil to the scabbard's leather, and set it aside. Touching the belt, she noted that it felt more supple and flexible already. A few more applications of oil and it would be nearly as good as new. She lifted the sword. The watch rang seven bells; half past three.

She yawned, and that small act surprised her. It had been months since she had felt even slightly tired after dark. The deep fear of the nightmares that ensued whenever she tried to sleep at night had become strong motivation to stay awake after dark. Elizabeth had been getting by for many weeks on just an hour or two of sleep snatched early in the mornings or just before dusk when her work shifts permitted. She had become resigned to being up all night. She didn't enjoy it, but that was just how things were now, Staying awake at night was better than enduring the nightmares that pursued her when she tried to sleep in the dark.

She ran her fingers gently along the blade, _her_ blade now, enjoying the feel of the cool smooth metal sliding under her fingertips. Somehow just knowing that this wonderful sword was hers made her feel more protected. She slipped the sword into its scabbard and placed it across her lap. Leaning back against the mast, she looked up into the patch of night sky that was visible between the treetops. She wondered where the sword had come from, who had made it, and who had been its last owner.

A man stood over her. She looked up at him. It was Jack. He was newly clean-shaven except for his moustache. His hair was tied back into a thick queue, which revealed a thin white scar that ran from behind his ear to just under his jaw. He held her sword in one hand, looking at it while turning it this way and that. He turned to meet her eyes and nodded just once before returning his attention to the sword.

* * *

Elizabeth was jolted awake by the carrier's wheels thumping on the stone road as the ship rolled along. The sun was peeking over the treetops.. She had fallen deeply asleep leaning against the mast with the sword and scabbard clutched in her hands. The pirates had been swabbing the deck all around her with salt water to keep the wood from drying out. For a moment she was disoriented. How had she gotten here? Were they at sea again? Then she realized that she was sitting in a puddle of sea water that had been splashed on the deck around her legs. She had slept propped up against the mast through half of the night.

Phillip saw her startle awake and laughed. "Ah, so ye're not dead after all! We couldn't wake ye, Miss Elizabeth, and it's nigh onto the end of morning watch! We were wonderin' if we should throw you over the side before ye started to stink!" He winked at her. Embarrassed, she leapt to her feet, tossed the sword and scabbard into her cubby and grabbed a deck mop.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22 Sulfur and Steel

_**CH 22 Sulfur and Steel**_

The afternoon sun glinted on the blade of the sword as Elizabeth admired it yet again. Her shift on deck duty was ended, and her new sword had drawn her back to it. She could not take her eyes off the beauty of the swirling patterns in the metal. Something on the blade caught her eye, and she turned the sword to catch the sun, highlighting what she saw. There was engraving on the metal. It was faint, but there were definitely words engraved alongside the fuller, the mis-named 'blood groove'. She could not read the lettering clearly because it was so highly polished that there was not enough contrast to see the engraving.

Elizabeth thought for a few moments, trying to remember what she'd seen Will do to produce darkened areas on bright metal. She put the sword into its sheath and tucked it under the steps before going below deck to the armory supply cabinet. She took out a few grains of sulfur from a corked bottle and brought them back up to her cubby. Using her calloused fingertips to crush the sulfur into powder, she spit into her palm and mixed the sulfur into the saliva. She rubbed the malodorous yellow-green paste, redolent of rotten eggs, into the engraving. She was careful to cover every bit of the inscription that she could make out. Wiping her stinking hands on the curtain of the cubby, she moved the sword from the shade under the steps to warm it in the bright sunshine. After a moment or two the metal began to darken where the paste covered it.

In only moments the sulfur covered area was fully black. Elizabeth seated herself on the quarterdeck steps so she could use her lap as a work surface. She rubbed off the paste with the oily rag, and then very gently polished it with the sand bag. She took pains to remove the black only from the surface around the engraving, leaving the newly applied black patina within the letters. As the beautiful swirled metal grain pattern reappeared, the elegant engraved script letters stood out black and clear down the blade next to the fuller groove: _Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens_

Elizabeth had mull over the phrase for several minutes before the Latin she had learned during her schooling started to come back to her. When she finally deciphered the phrase, she could scarcely believe what she was reading. The quote brought a quick sting of tears to her eyes.

At that moment Jack started up the steps to the helm. He glanced down and saw what she held in her hands. His eyes opened wide and he stopped in mid-stride with one foot on the deck, the other on the steps next to Elizabeth.

"Where the bloody hell did you get _that_!?" he shouted. Elizabeth nearly dropped the sword, which she had balanced across her knees. She looked up at him, confused and startled by his reaction.

"This is the sword Mister Gibbs gave me yesterday. I spent last night cleaning it up. You didn't say anything …" Her voice trailed off when she realized he wasn't listening to her. He was fiddling with the beads in his beard and staring at the gleaming blade in her lap. She held the sword out to him. He took a step back, removing the foot from the steps. He hesitated for a moment before taking the sword gingerly in both hands. He held it with his fingertips by just the pommel and the point as if it was fragile. Flipping it over, he found the engraving.

His expression was somber as he looked at the weapon. "I had no idea this was aboard my ship. I wonder how long it's been here?" His voice was quiet and very serious. He didn't seem to be speaking to Elizabeth any longer.

"MISTER GIBBS!!! GIBBS! WHERE THE BLAZES ARE YOU?" Jack shouted. Elizabeth jumped a little at the unexpected outburst.

Gibbs poked his head up through the hatch. "Aye, Cap'n?"

"Get over here right now, Gibbs! Tell me where this came from!" He held out the brilliantly polished sword.

Gibbs rushed to Jack as fast as his bowed legs could get him there. He looked at the sword in astonishment. "I've got no idea, Cap'n. Never saw it before!"

"Miss Swann tells me this is the sword you gave her yesterday. When did this sword come aboard the Pearl?"

Gibbs looked shocked. "Jack, I swear, I gave her a rusty piece o'junk, I mean, a nicely broke in, well-used sword. It was in the bottom of the armory locker box. Been there since I first came aboard myself. I remember seein' it in there when I took m'first inventory as your new first mate. It was the lightest sword in there, so I thought it was the best one for a woman."

"But how did it get on my ship?" Jack persisted.

"I seem to recall hearin' one o' the lads sayin' that a whole crate of old swords and guns and whatnot had been, ahem, _acquired_ somewhere whilst Barbossa had the Pearl, pardon my mentionin' it. Mayhaps it came aboard then. I'd been meaning to clean them up to passable condition, but you know how it is when you get busy…." Gibbs looked slightly uncomfortable for a second. "But if I'd known this beautywas in there, you know as well as I do that it woulda been taken long ago!"

Jack didn't respond. He was still staring at the sword.

Gibbs looked more closely at the sword, and then turned to Elizabeth. "Did _you_ clean this up all by yourself?"

Elizabeth nodded. "It still needs some work, but yes, I spent most of last night on it."

Gibbs shook his head. "Amazin'…."

"Thank you, Gibbs" Jack murmured, only half attending to what he was saying. His eyes were still focused on the sword in his hands. Gibbs turned away and went back to his work.

"Jack, I mean, Captain—is there a problem with the sword?" Elizabeth spoke cautiously. She feared that Jack was going to claim her beautiful sword for himself. Jack didn't reply. He just kept staring at the sword. "Captain? Is everything alright?"

Jack finally tore his eyes off the sword and looked at her.

"No. Yes. Everything is just bloody fine. Do you know what this is?"

"Damascus steel, isn't it?" Elizabeth did not attempt to hide her pride in recognizing the rare metal.

"Aye, it is that. Can you read the engraving?"

For reasons she could not fathom, Elizabeth felt compelled to hide the fact that she could read it. She shook her head, hating the lie. "My Latin is weak. I can make out a few of the words but I'm not sure what it means. Do you understand it?"

Jack looked back at the sword and shook his head slowly. "I never could."

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt and adjusted his grip a few times. He hefted the sword, made a few tentative slashing strokes at the air, and ran a thumb down the edges, carefully feeling each nick in the blade. Then he lowered it and stared at the sword for an eternity before finally handing it back to Elizabeth.

"This is a very special blade, as I'm sure you realize if you recognize it as Damascus steel." He paused for a long time before he went on grudgingly. "You've done well by it so far. I will expect to see it fully restored as soon as possible. And I'll expect my sword back as soon as you get leather on this one. No sense trying to use a sword that will slip in your sweaty hand."

* * *

A/N: If I give the translation of that Latin phrase, it might give away too much of the story too soon. Please don't go look it up. Please! Be patient, all will be revealed eventually….I promise!

Oh, and that bit with the sulfur…that's an actual technique for darkening metal. Sometimes I use it on jewelry I'm making, only not with spit…


	23. Chapter 23 Slippery as a Snake

_**CH 23 Slippery as a Snake**_

The rest of the day passed as the last few days had; hot, sticky, tiring and boring. Nested in its carrier, the Black Pearl rumbled along on the old stone road. The crew of the Pearl sweated in the steamy, oppressive jungle heat and humidity as they labored in shifts tarring the hull. The caravan halted to rest the mules every two hours. Monotony and the brutal heat motivated some of the pirates to get off the ship during the mule breaks, despite their fear of the jaguars they heard roaring every night.

The first four to leave the ship during one such break were Pintel, Ragetti, Marty and Mister Moore, the former owner of Elizabeths trousers. Moore was an unlikely looking pirate. He was an extremely thin and brittle looking man of indeterminate age and a nervous, girlish disposition. The other three waited for him to go down the truss lines first, even though they had been the ones to convince him leave the ship.

The fearsome four set about looking for anything they might eat. They cautiously pushed the jungle vines and bushes aside with their sword points. Each of them stepped off the road a few feet into the jungle and loudly expressed their hopes to one another that they would find an apple tree or oranges, or maybe even grapes. A sudden incoherent shout startled them all. Mister Moore staggered backward out of the undergrowth at the edge of the road, sword held up in a defensive posture, and blood on the blade. He was staring at a spot in the bushes just in front of his feet. The other three jumped back out of the underbrush and ran to Moores side.

Marty parted the brush and looked at the ground. Then he reached down into the bushes and lifted something long and vivid yellow. He held it and turned around. It was a canary colored snake as long as Marty was tall. The snake was missing its head. An ashen-faced Mister Moore explained to nobody in particular "Oh, goodness me. I hate snakes. It dropped down out of a tree right in front of me. I swung before I even thought about it."

Juan sauntered out from behind the carrier and approached the four men. "What have we here?" he addressed Marty. "Ah! An eyelash viper! Did you kill this?" Marty shook his head and pointed at Mister Moore. Juan turned to him.

"You are very brave, my friend. This is the most deadly snake in all of Panama. One drop of her venom will kill a man. And this is the largest specimen I have ever seen—normally they only grow so big." He bent the fingers of one hand up and put the fingers of the other hand across his forearm. "If she had bitten you, we would be digging your grave now."

Mister Moore carefully handed his bloody sword to Pintel before dropping hard to the cobblestone road in a dead faint.

Juan ignored the unconscious pirate at his feet. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"What _can_ you do with it?" asked Marty, still holding up the snake's body.

Juan replied, "The meat it is not very good to eat, but the skin, she makes beautiful leather."

Elizabeth, who had been watching from the ships rail, heard his comment. "Might I have the skin?" she asked.

"Ah, the lovely lady wants a new purse perhaps?" Juan purred.

"No, but I'd like it for another use. My sword needs a new grip."

Juan let the smile slip from his face for only a second. "Your….sword?"

Elizabeth nodded and smiled brightly. "Yes. I've only just gotten it and it needs some repair before I can use it."

Juan's smile returned, and his eyes gleamed darkly. His thoughts momentarily strayed from the snake. _"A beautiful woman who knows how to use a sword? What a marvel! I wonder what else you can do that I would not suspect, eh my beauty?"_

Ragetti bent over Mister Moore and shook him to wake him up. Moore sat up, saw the snake in Marty's hand and fell over backward again. Ragetti looked at Pintel then up at the ship. He shook his head. "I ain't carryin' him up them ropes!"

Juan turned to Marty. "Do you think your friend there…" he nodded in the general direction of the recumbent Moore, "would mind giving his prize to the lady?"

Pintel answered before Marty could. "Take it away. If he keeps seein' that thing he'll never make it back aboard the ship!"

Juan smiled. "Then it is settled!" He took the snake from Marty, and looked up at Elizabeth. His smile never wavered, but his dark eyes wore a predatory expression. "My lady, you will have your leather as soon as it can be finished! Until then…" Juan bowed low in a courtly fashion with one hand across his chest. He stood upright, smiled up at Elizabeth, and then headed off in the direction of the supply wagon. The snake's body left a trail of bright blood to mark his path..

"Thank you, Mister Pardal!" Elizabeth called happily after him. "I'm looking forward to it!"

Jack had been eating his dinner meal on the fo'c's'le steps during the encounter with Juan. He had stopped crunching on the rocklike hardtack in order to hear the conversation more clearly. As Juan walked away, the stale flat bread crumbled to dust in Jacks fist.


	24. Chapter 24 Oh, God

_**CH 24 Oh, God**_

The next time the caravan stopped to rest the mules, Jack disembarked to inspect the ship. The careening, patching and tarring was almost complete. The only task remaining was to black the anchor with the tar to slow the inevitable progress of rust. As Jack approached the midsection of the ship, he heard a creak from her hull. A closer examination showed him that the edges of the outer hull boards were beginning to curl outward, ever so slightly. The wood was drying out despite the intense humidity of the jungle.

"Oh, NOT good…" He patted the hull of the ship as if he were comforting a living thing. "Easy, love I know you need water. Hold together for just a few more days and we'll be back in our ocean again." He placed his hand on the Pearl again for just a few seconds before climbing back up the truss lines. He ordered the exhausted crew to begin to tar the ship all over again.

* * *

That night Elizabeth worked on the sword again. She cleaned and polished the elaborate guard that would protect the hand holding the sword. In the candle light it appeared to be made of some dark metal. She polished the pommel until she was able to make out the detail of the carving. It was a solid metal ball the size of a walnut, shaped like a rose in full bloom._ How strange,_ she thought,_ this must have originally been a woman's sword. I do wish I could learn more about its past!_

She polished the blade again with the rag and oil, even though it already gleamed in the candle light. She buffed and polished the detailed buckle on the belt as best she could with the awkward sand bags. The scabbard lay nearby awaiting its turn. The metal throat and drag were rusty, so when she had finished with the buckle, she worked them over with the sand bags. They contained detailed carvings, and it took nearly as long to get the rust out of the crevices as it had taken to clean the entire sword blade the night before. When she was finished, the metal decorations shone in the light. She could not get her hand down inside the scabbard to wipe it out, so she had to settle for using the rod from a gun cleaning swab from the armory supplies. It was meant for a rifle and was a little bit too short to reach the bottom of the scabbard. But once she attached the oily rag to it, it did a passable job of spreading a light coat of oil evenly inside most of the scabbard to help keep the sword from getting stuck again.

When she was finished, she leaned back to examine her handiwork. The dark leather of the belt and scabbard gleamed in the flickering candle light. The sword glittered as the swirled metals reflected back different shades of the light, and the trim on the scabbard fairly glowed. Elizabeth was pleased with herself, and proud of what she had accomplished with the pile of rust and stiff leather Mister Gibbs had dumped into her arms. She slid the sword home into the freshly polished scabbard, laid it across her lap, and leaned back to look up at the sky. She looked at the familiar stars above her, and willed her tense shoulder muscles to relax.

Jack stood before her. His hair was tied back and the thin white scar glowed faintly against his smooth tanned jaw. He held her sword at arm's length and looked intently at it while rotating his wrist and making small cutting motions. He turned his gaze from the sword to her. He nodded twice and smiled, displaying gleaming white teeth.

* * *

Up on the fo'c's'le, Ragetti was on watch duty. Jack had ordered lanterns to be hung around the rails of the ship. They glowed faintly, but there weren't enough lanterns aboard to blanket the whole ship with light. Pools of shadow spread between the circles of lanterns' glow. Ragetti sat on the forward hatch cover with his back to the bow of the ship, looking down over the whole of the main deck. A single lantern hung behind him on the bow rail. From his perch, he could see Elizabeth leaning against the mast on the deck with a lantern next to her. Up on the quarterdeck he could see the sailor who sat with the hourglass and bell, keeping track of the time. He looked up at the foremast and the stars far above it. _Odd, _he thought, _some of the stars are green tonight. Oh, wait…._

The green stars blinked at him from the foremast yardarm, almost directly over his head.

Without a sound, the owner of the green stars dropped to the fo'c's'le deck. Ragetti could only make out a vague outline in the shadowy darkness, but the size of it surprised him. He had never seen a jaguar, and he had no idea they were so large. He had been picturing a black cat—a house cat—whenever he thought of the jungle cats. His imagination had only gotten the color right. The jaguar switched its tail and crouched. Ragetti swallowed hard. "Um, nice kitty?"

The big cat took a step toward him. Ragetti thought of running, but realized that he would have to go right past the cat to get anywhere, so he remained where he was. "Pretty kitty? Are you hungry?" he whispered softly.

The cat took another step in his direction, and now he could more clearly see the profile of the huge head. He wished he hadn't asked if it was hungry. Then he thought of something, and carefully inched a hand into the pocket of his coat. He pulled out a piece of dried salted fish that he had saved from his supper. .Moving as slowly as he could, he broke it in half and gently tossed part of it to the deck. The cat jumped back in alarm as the hard fish skidded across the deck, but it did not flee. After taking a minute to consider the situation, it cautiously leaned forward and sniffed the fish.

Ragetti remembered the words of the Guaymi man who had walked with him on the jungle road.

"Forest spirit, please accept my tribute", he said simply. The jaguar tentatively touched its tongue to the fish. Suddenly the fish was gone. Ragetti saw a brief flash of large white teeth as the cat swallowed. He tossed the other half of the piece of fish near it. The jaguar did not hesitate before eating the second piece. It turned its head and looked directly at Ragetti. Its green eyes glowed in the light coming from behind him. He could see the silhouette of the cat's head and body haloed by the dim and distant light from the lower deck. But he could not see the cat itself. All light seemed to be absorbed into it, obscuring any details of muscles or fur. It was as if a living shadow with green eyes stood before him on the deck.

The jaguar bunched its feet together under its body as if preparing to leap. It shifted nervously a few times, then settled into a crouch and wrapped its tail around its feet. It was no more than a few feet from Ragetti, and its unwavering green stare never left him. Ragetti clenched the trouser fabric on his knees to still his shaking hands, swallowed hard and stared back at the cat with his one functional eye. He felt sweat trickling down his forehead.

After an eternity, the cat stood gracefully and padded silently nearer to him. It stretched out its neck and carefully sniffed first one hand, then the other. It raised its head and leaned toward his face. He was certain this would be the last thing he saw in this life. He squeezed his eyes closed and waited to die. He could hear his own blood rushing through his veins. Whiskers tickled as they delicately brushed his forehead, nose and chin. The jaguars breath was light and hot, and smelled of salt fish and blood. Ragetti was motionless; his body refused to move, not even to breathe. The jaguar remained nose to nose with him until Ragetti thought his lungs would burst. The cat abruptly turned away and leapt over the rail to the ground. It made no sound as it moved, nor as it landed.

Ragetti's lungs could wait no longer for air. He exhaled loudly and gasped. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes. He was alone. His breathing was ragged and he could feel his heartbeat pound in every vein in his head. At last he was able to breathe normally. He whispered quietly. "Thank you." When his limbs finally agreed to respond to his brain, he retrieved the lantern from the bow rail and placed it next to him on the forward cover hatch.


	25. Chapter 25 Food Gifts

_**CH 25 Food Gifts**_

In the morning, the sound of Juan's crew on the ground around the ship awoke Elizabeth. She was surprised to see the first rays of dawn above the trees. She shook her head to clear it, and got up from the deck where she had spent the night against the main mast. She stowed the sword in her alcove and went to the rail. Juan noticed her and greeted her with his usual big smile. "Ah! Good morning, encantadora! I trust you slept well last night?"

"Yes, very well, thank you." Elizabeth replied, returning his smile. She was thoroughly enjoying being spoken to like a lady for a change.

Gibbs' voice cut through the sounds of the ground crew's preparations. "Miss Swann! It's your turn to deal out breakfast. Get yerself to the galley!"

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, then back at Juan who was still looking up at her from the ground. "Please excuse me. I must get to work now." She turned away and hurried to the galley to begin handing out hardtack and grog.

Juan shook his head as he returned to his crew. "Such a waste…." he said to himself.

This day started much like yesterday had. The weather was hot and sticky. The pirates spent the day slapping boiling tar on the ship. The mosquitoes were incessant, and the mules needed rest every few hours. It seemed that the ship was constantly stopping. The only difference was that every time the caravan stopped, Juan appeared, seeking out Elizabeth.

He did not request to board the ship. Instead he spoke to her from the ground as she leaned over the rail, chatting pleasantly about this and that. He was always exceedingly polite and courteous. Once he tossed up a gift, a strange jungle fruit that resembled a huge green lime. "Is called a papaya," he told her. "Cut off a slice and eat the pink flesh." Elizabeth turned from the rail and placed the coconut-sized fruit on a nearby barrel so she could cut it with her knife. She scooped out some of the pinkish-orange contents and took a bite. She could not help uttering a soft moan of pleasure. The sweet, fragrant fruit was ambrosia to her salted-food weary palate. The other pirates on the deck looked at her enviously. She returned to the rail and held up the rest of the fruit.

"This is delicious! Thank you ever so much, Mister Pardal!"

Juan looked pleased. "We are friends, yes? Please call me Juan."

A voice called out Juan's name from near the front of the mule team. Juan doffed his hat and raised it to Elizabeth, exposing his shiny black hair, which was cut short and lay flat against his head. "Please excuse me, querida, I must go deal with this…unfortunate…interruption." Donning his hat, he stalked off toward the direction from which he had been called. A few seconds later the sounds of shouting drifted up to the deck of the Pearl.

Elizabeth turned away from the rail, still holding the papaya. The pirates were bunched together halfway across the deck from her, staring at the papaya hopefully. They reminded Elizabeth of a pack of stray dogs begging for scraps. She put down the fruit, pulled out her knife and cut off another very thick slice of the papaya. She tucked the knife back into her belt and put the slice of fruit between her teeth. The men all sighed dejectedly.

Elizabeth shook her head and rolled her eyes. Using both hands she grabbed the larger chunk of papaya from the barrel and tossed it high into the air above the heads of the pirates. They all scrabbled like seagulls trying to be the one to catch it. Elizabeth removed the fruit from her mouth and laughed. "Work it out amongst yourselves, boys!" She seated herself on the lowest step to enjoy her papaya and watch the show. She did not see Jack scowling behind the helm on the quarterdeck above her.

Thereafter, every time Juan visited Elizabeth, he sent up another gift. Various types of fruits made their way to the deck of the Black Pearl: more papayas, juicy mangoes, hands of bananas, and a dangerously spiny fruit that Juan called a pineapple. After Juan returned to his work, Elizabeth shared the fruit with the pirates

During one break, Juan asked Elizabeth to come down from the ship. She glanced around to see if anyone would object, and saw no one. She dropped a rope ladder over the side, and climbed down to the ground. Juan smiled when she reached him. "I would be honored if you would walk with me!"

Elizabeth remembered the jaguar on the yardarm. She wasn't quite ready to leave the relative safety of the Pearl's vicinity just yet. She smiled and replied, "I don't have permission to be off the ship. I must remain close by in case I'm called." It wasn't a lie.

Juan said "Very well, then we will sit here in her shadow and enjoy one another's company for a time." They seated themselves on the road in the shade created by the ship and fell into easy conversation.

Elizabeth studied Juan's face as he spoke. This was the first time she had gotten a close look at him since the Pearl had left the Pacific Ocean. His eyes were very dark and he squinted pleasantly when he smiled. He often wore a monocle when he was not driving the mule team or riding a horse. Once she had asked him about it. He had only laughed and replied that he was becoming blinded by her sparkling presence. The bridge of his nose was slightly arched, giving him a rakish appearance. When he was silent, which was not often, his curving black mustache revealed only his full lower lip. When he spoke or laughed, the curtain of mustache lifted to reveal large, straight ivory teeth. His cheekbones were wide and prominent. With his dark golden tan and blue-black hair, he looked foreign and exotic. And in the center of his clean-shaven chin was a dimple which Elizabeth thought was quite fetching. He was not what most would consider classically handsome, but he was much more pleasing to look at than the pirates…well, all but one. She put that thought immediately out of her mind and turned her attention back to Juan's words.

"…another gift for you, encantadora. I have brought for you the maracuyá." With a flourish, he presented a small net bag that contained four small dark purple fruits. He removed one from the bag, and cut it in two with a tiny knife. He handed half to Elizabeth and gestured that she should eat it. She bit into it, scraping the juicy orange flesh from the tough skin with her teeth. The flavor was intense and exquisite. Her eyes closed and she sighed with pleasure. Nothing she had ever eaten could compare to this; it was by far the best thing she had ever tasted. She felt juice dripping off her chin, and quickly wiped it with her hand, embarrassed to appear so unladylike. But she was not too embarrassed to take another bite of the maracuyá.

Juan cut open a second maracuyá and watched her eat. Her blissful smile and sigh when she took the first bite had told him all he wanted to know. He scrutinized Elizabeth's appearance while she enjoyed the fruit. True, she was filthy and dressed in ragged clothing that should have been destroyed long ago. But Juan had traveled much in his lifetime, and he was accustomed to meeting beautiful women, not all of whom were fastidiously kept and stylishly clothed. He could see past dirt and tattered clothing to picture a woman as she would look if bathed and groomed and dressed in finery. _Ah yes, this one truly is a prize worth winning…_

Elizabeth was disappointed when Juan's men called out to announce that the mules were ready to move again. Juan took her hand to help her to her feet. He softly kissed the hand before releasing it. "Until next time, minha querida!" He held the rope ladder steady for her until she had ascended to the deck of the Pearl. He waved to her before turning away. Just before Elizabeth stepped over the rail onto the deck, Jacks cabin door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass in the paned window.

The flock of scavenger pirates was hovering just beyond the rail waiting for her return. She carried the bag containing the last two maracuyá, and they eyed it eagerly. "What'd'e bring ye today?" one of them asked. Elizabeth held up the two egg-sized fruits "Sorry mates, these are just too small to share!" It was true, she told herself.

* * *

Jack checked the condition of the Pearl's hull daily. Despite the repeated applications of tar, the boards were still slowly shrinking, and the gaps between the previously swollen boards were alarming him. The crew often heard him talking to the ship, quietly telling her to hold together.

The next five days closely resembled the previous ones; heat, humidity, mosquitoes, tar, tar and more tar, and Elizabeth's regular visits from Juan. She went down to sit with him at least once every day. She enjoyed Juan's attentions and found herself looking forward to the mule breaks when he would come to see her. It was nice to be reminded that she was a woman, not just another scruffy, reeking deckhand.

The pirates also anticipated Juan's visits. They clustered behind Elizabeth, out of Juan's sight on the deck, waiting to see what this visit's fruit gift would be. But now the fruit was always maracuyá and he only gave it to her when she came down off the ship. While Juan always brought her at least four, no more than one at a time ever made it back aboard the Pearl. Elizabeth kept them for herself, explaining to the pirates that there just wasn't enough to go around. She did not want the tiny fruit to cause fights among the crew. That certainly was true enough.

But the pirates continued to hold out hope that she would share. Once Elizabeth joked that they reminded her of the sea birds that hovered around the docks where fishing boats unloaded. Pintel replied "Aye, Miss Eliz, but the gulls always gets what they're waitin' for, now don't they?" Elizabeth laughed. "I suppose they do, Mister Pintel!"

* * *

One morning as the Pearl rolled along the old stone road, the pirates heard the sound of splashing water. The foremost teams of mules was wading through a stream that was almost chest deep on the animals. The road led straight into the water and came out on the other side.

Juan, on horseback, was riding next to a large black man in the carriage seat and giving him instructions on how to drive the mules.

Jack rushed to the rail over Juan's head and shouted down to him. "Mister Pardal! Stop the ship!"

Juan looked up. "What, Captain?"

"Stop the carrier in the middle of the stream!"

"Pardon, Captain? Why?"

"My ship needs water. She's drying out. Stop the carrier so we can swab her down!"

"Ah. As you wish, Captain…." Juan sounded confused, but he instructed the driver to halt when the wheels of the carrier were in the stream.

Jack ordered the crew to lower all available ladders, ropes and bosuns' chairs. The pirates began swabbing the Pearl's hull with every deck mop they could scrounge up. They dipped them in the stream and slapped the soaking wet mops against the ship. Those who were without a mop splashed buckets of water against the ship.

Soon enough one of the pirates dumped a bucket of water over the head of one of his mates, who in turn slapped him with a wet mop. Within minutes the entire crew, Elizabeth included, was engaged in a huge water fight, and soon they were all completely soaked. It was refreshing after many days of endless jungle heat, and easily as much water was poured over pirate heads as onto the ship's hull. Elizabeth tried discreetly to wash her face and arms, but the water was muddied from the mules and pirates walking in the stream. She replaced a little of the older Black Pearl dirt with newer Panama mud, but the end result wasn't an improvement. She hoped that at least getting wet would knock her body odor down a little. Jack remained on the ship, alternately shouting at them to get back to work, and mumbling to himself about his _next_ crew, who he swore would all be sane and sober men.

Juan ordered his men to water and feed the mules while the pirates continued their bizarre behavior. When the mules were ready to continue, Juan called up to Jack. "Captain, we must continue moving to maintain our schedule!" Jack shouted and banged the butt of his pistol on the rail to get the attention of his dripping wet crew, and ordered them to get back on board.

At the next rest break for the mules, Juan rode his horse back to the ship. He called for Elizabeth. She leaned over the rail, pushing her damp stringy hair out of her face as she greeted him with a happy smile.

"Miss Swann! I have news!"

"What is it, Juan?"

"The skin of the viper is ready for you."

"Wonderful! Thank you!"

"But there is payment required in return for the skin."

A suspicious look clouded Elizabeth's face. "What sort of payment?"

"You must come down and dine with me this evening. That is all I require!"

Elizabeth's smile returned. "I've got first dog watch this evening, but I'm free after that. I would love to join you for supper!"

"Excellent! I shall return for you after the mules have been settled for the night!" He turned the horse and trotted away.

* * *

Elizabeth's shift on watch ended just when the caravan stopped that evening. She was looking forward to eating real food instead of the stringy and over-salted dried meat and tasteless hard bread. She had to admit that she had also been enjoying Juan's attentions. He was courtly and polite to her at all times, and he was reasonably handsome even if he was no taller than her. It was a welcome change to interact with a man who always conducted himself as a gentleman, and didn't belch or fart or curse whenever the mood struck him.

She nervously attempted to run her fingers through her hair to straighten it. She stopped when she hit a painful tangle, and realized that the attempt was hopeless. She looked around in her cubby, and saw a shred of the black curtain that was nearly torn off near the bottom. She pulled it loose and used it to tie her hair back tightly at the nape of her neck. Looking down at her bare feet, she saw dirt and tar. She dug her boots out from under the steps, shined them up as much as she could with the curtain and donned them. At least her feet looked presentable. But she couldn't wash up or change her clothes, which were still damp from the water fight early that morning. _"It's only a dinner," _she told herself, "_it's not a formal dress ball." _But her appearance still displeased her and she felt extremely self-conscious.

Emerging from the alcove, she walked hesitantly to the rail where the rope ladder lay. Jack was draped sinuously on the quarterdeck steps nearby. He was leaning back on his elbows, crossed legs stretched out lazily before him. He looked up at her with half-closed eyes. His expression was unreadable.

"You're actually going down there." It wasn't a question. "I didn't think you were so gullible."

"Whatever do you mean? Why shouldn't I go?

"He's not what he seems, y'know. Don't trust him."

"Thank you, _father,_ but I believe I can take care of myself."

She turned away to look over the rail, sucking on her lower lip to suppress the smirk that threatened to take over her face as she considered his comments. _Could he possibly be… jealous? _

"You couldn't take care of yourself when Fletcher went after you."

She whirled toward him, temper flaring. "That was completely different! He grabbed me in the dark. I wasn't expecting it, and I was unarmed. I'm quite certain that Juan would never do such a thing. He's a gentleman, not a _pirate_." She saw Jack's brows knit together at her words, or maybe just at the last one.

She added more quietly. "I'm taking my knife."

"Not the sword?"

"That hardly seems necessary. Besides, it would give the wrong impression."

"That's exactly the impression you _should_ give, love. Have a nice _supper._"

Jack fairly sneered out the last word as he got up. He strode into his cabin and closed the door behind him. The glass rattled in the window panes.

* * *

A/N: Please forgive me if I didn't get the Portuguese endearments quite right.  
When one does not speak the language, one can only do so much with Babelfish.

Encantadora: charmer  
Querida: dear or darling  
Minha querida: my darling


	26. Chapter 26 A Business Proposition

_**CH 26 A Business Proposition**_

Juan returned to the Pearl about half an hour later. Elizabeth dropped a rope ladder over the side, and climbed down to join him. He offered her his elbow, just as a proper gentleman should. She took his arm, and he escorted her away from the ship. Despite her dirty clothing and tangled hair, Elizabeth thoroughly enjoyed acting like a lady for a little while.

As they got farther from the plethora of disagreeable aromas that surrounded the ship, she noticed that Juan did not smell like the pirates. He smelled almost clean in comparison. She hadn't realized that she had become accustomed to the odor of unwashed men until she got away from it. She became more self-conscious about how she must look and smell. But Juan didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't let on. So she forced it out of her mind and focused on enjoying the evening. Juan was very pleasant company. He chatted amicably about Panama and the jungle as they strolled slowly toward his campsite.

The setting sun still provided enough light to see the jungle clearly. As they walked along, Juan pointed out various beautiful vines and plants, telling her their names in both English and Portuguese. He spotted a maracuyá vine growing up a tree, and deftly plucked some fruit. He presented them to Elizabeth with a deep bow. He reached up into a plant growing on the trunk of another tree and came away with a large magenta orchid. He brushed a loose wisp of her hair aside and placed the flower behind her ear. "Ah, perfection!" Elizabeth blushed shyly at the compliment as any proper lady should.

After a pleasant walk down the stone road, they reached Juan's campsite. Their destination was a small natural clearing near the road. It was surrounded by trees, well away from the rest of his crew's camp. In the clearing, a simple round tent of gauzy white mosquito netting was suspended from a hoop hung below a branch. A small table and two chairs had been set up on a carpet inside the tent. The table was covered with a linen tablecloth. Places for two had been set with linen napkins, silver utensils, beautiful china and crystal goblets. A candle burned inside a cut glass hurricane shade, reflecting a myriad of tiny flames through the facets. Thousands of fireflies flickered like ever-changing constellations in the jungle all around, briefly illuminating the rainbow hues of the orchids that graced the tree trunks. Somewhere nearby, a tiny stream whispered secrets into the night. The lyrical songs of night birds and tree frogs in the distance provided the finishing touch, the ideal background music for the scene.

Elizabeth was enchanted by the setting. Everything was simply, perfectly lovely. She marveled at it all. She had never seen such a beautiful setting. It looked exactly the way she had pictured the land of faeries as a child.

Juan held the netting open for Elizabeth to enter before him. He politely pulled our her chair and seated her before seating himself across from her. She placed the maracuyá fruits on the table next to her plate and daintily folded her hands in her lap.

In seconds a man appeared with a small wooden cask with a tap. He entered the tent, spoke to Juan in a low voice, and placed the cask on a small stand next to the table before leaving.

Juan decanted some of the wine from the cask into a glass carafe and filled each of their glasses. He lifted his glass. "Let me make a toast, to a long and very pleasant friendship!" Elizabeth lifted her glass and touched it lightly against his. The crystal goblets rang gently. She swirled the wine and inhaled its fragrance. The rich bouquet was fruity but unfamiliar to her. The wine glowed a rich deep shade of dark topaz when she held the glass up to the last ray of the fading sunset. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. It was strong, but very sweet. Elizabeth was extremely thirsty after eating only salty foods for so long. Unlike rum that only burned her throat, the sweet wine slaked her thirst and went down smoothly.

"Is called Port wine," Juan answered her question before she could voice it. "It is a Portuguese specialty. Normally it is only a dessert wine, but here in the jungle we have no aperitif, so the Port must suffice for both before and after the meal."

"It is _very_ good," Elizabeth commented before taking another sip. She didn't realize she had taken such a big sip. Her glass was suddenly dry.

"I am so very glad you enjoy it!" Juan smiled, refilling her empty glass "As much as you enjoy the maracuyá, I hope?"

"That is a truly marvelous fruit," Elizabeth breathed. "I've never had anything that tasted so wonderful before."

Juan reached under his chair and pulled out something yellow. "I have promised you the tanned skin of the viper, and you have repaid me by dining with me this evening. This is for you, querida."

He stood, bowed and grandly presented her with the roll of leather. As he sat down, Elizabeth unrolled the leather to look at it. The scales had been removed, leaving the shiny canary yellow skin soft and smooth. The faint cream colored markings of the snake were still visible down the entire length of the skin. Elizabeth knew it would be perfect for the grip of her sword. As she rolled up the leather, she smiled happily and thanked Juan profusely.

"It was nothing, encantadora," he murmured modestly as he refilled her empty wine glass.

Juan's man returned, bearing a tray with serving dishes on it. He entered the tent and began placing the dishes on the table. There was a roasted chicken that smelled aromatically spicy, a bowl of fragrant rice, another bowl of what appeared to be fried bananas, and yet another that held steaming white slices of something which Elizabeth did not recognize at all. The last bowl the man set on the table contained peeled and sliced maracuyá fruits. Juan spoke curtly to the man in Portuguese. The man nodded, turned and left without a word. Juan refilled Elizabeth's empty glass.

He stood to carve the bird. "Minha querida would prefer white meat, or dark?"

"Either would be fine, thank you. Other than the fruits you've brought me, I haven't had anything to eat but salted fish and pork for months! You are very kind to invite me to dinner, Juan. Thank you once again."

Juan tut-tutted his disapproval. "You deserve so much better than ships' rations."

He carved the chicken and served Elizabeth a slice of meat before sitting down again. Placing some meat on his own plate, he gestured toward the bowl of rice with his free hand. "A native dish, this is rice cooked in coconut milk. This", he pointed to the bananas, "is called plantain. Looks like the banana, but is a vegetable, not a fruit. And this is yuca root, much like your English potato. I apologize for the humble peasant meal. We eat much better back at our base near Panama, where we have access to imported foods from the port." He spooned some of each of the foods onto Elizabeth's plate before refilling her empty wine glass.

"Please, don't apologize! This is superb!" Elizabeth tasted each of the foods in turn, and marveled over each one. The chicken was tender and juicy, but quite spicy, more so than she normally would have preferred. But she was thrilled to be eating anything that wasn't dried and preserved with salt. She would have gladly eaten stewed coconut shells if Juan had served them to her. The other foods on the table were all unusual to her palate, but all were equally delicious. She did her best to try to eat politely and not wolf down her meal. She had not acknowleged how very hungry she was until she tasted the food.

Conversation stilled as they ate and drank. Juan watched her reactions to the food with a pleased twinkle in his eyes. Elizabeth demurred from taking second helpings as a well-bred lady should. But Juan put just a little bit more of everything on her plate, and refilled her empty wine glass. "You must eat well while the opportunity is present!"

Elizabeth did not argue that point, and after all, it would be terribly rude for a guest to leave uneaten food on her plate. When they had both finished and laid down their forks, the manservant appeared and took away their plates, leaving two bowls in their places. Juan spooned slices of the maracuyá into them. Then he decanted more wine into the carafe, and replenished her empty glass.

"So, now that we are not chewing", he smiled, "we can get to know one another better, away from your curious comrades who listen to everything. How is it that a beautiful woman came to be dressed like a man and traveling with a band of brigands?"

"It's a very, very long story, Juan. I'm sure it wouldn't interest you at all. I'm hoping to get home soon, that's all that matters."

"Home? Ah, encantadora! Anywhere that you are would be home for the man fortunate enough to have you!"

Elizabeth blushed to her hairline. She was not a woman who required constant flattery. But no one had said anything even remotely complimentary to her, let alone praised her beauty, in a very long time. It felt marvelous to be appreciated and to be treated like a lady again.

Seeing her response emboldened Juan, and he continued. He reached across the table and took Elizabeth's hand in both of his. He felt the calluses on her fingers and palm.

"This is not right!" he exclaimed angrily. "A woman such as you should not have to work with her hands like a common servant! Querida Elisabete!" He pronounced her name with a Portuguese accent. His voice lowered to a sultry purr, and his richly accented words flowed like heady sweet wine over Elizabeth's attention-parched consciousness.

"South America is home to many beautiful women, all of them dark and mysterious as the jaguar. But you, encantadora! You are more beautiful than all of them combined. I have never seen another foreign woman come through the ports who has the fire, the passion that you have. You have a rare beauty. Your skin should not be darkened from the sun like the farmers' women and rough like the sailors'. Your beautiful English skin should be lily white and soft as nature has intended. You are indeed rare like the white jaguar, and you should be treated like the goddess of perfection that you are!" As he spoke, he poured more wine into her empty glass.

Elizabeth was breathless with pleasure. She smiled, perhaps somewhat more encouragingly than a proper lady should, and leaned forward a little. Maybe it was the magical surroundings or the sumptuous food or his sensuous voice that weakened her. She didn't know why and didn't care. Whatever the reason, his words went straight to her head. They made her face flush and her heart race. She very, _very_ much wanted to hear more.

Encouraged, Juan rushed on. "Atraente Elisabete, you could stay with me when the ship leaves. I have a large home atop a cliff in Brazil. It overlooks the ocean. The view of the sunrise from the balcony is magnificent. I would buy for you all the silk gowns you desire, and you could entertain potential business partners for my other endeavors. I would be there with you as soon as this enterprise becomes successful and I dare to leave it in the hands of others. And be assured I would visit you very often until that time."

Elizabeth was jolted back to reality. "Juan, is this a proposal of marriage? We hardly know one another!"

It was Juan's turn to be taken aback. "Marriage proposal? No…." he searched for the right words, suddenly serious. "…is more like a business proposal. You would be a rare asset to a man in my position. I am, how do the French say it, an entrepreneur. I seek new and different ways to make my fortune. Having a beautiful and intelligent woman at my side would impress potential partners and could attract new investors to my ventures."

His voice slipped easily from crisp business tones back to smooth, seductive ones. "And, of course, when there are no clients to entertain, we could always entertain each other…."

He let his voice trail off meaningfully, still holding her hand. His thumb stroked her palm and

his fingers caressed the back of her hand.

A quiet, sleepy little voice inside her head whispered: _Run._

She gently but firmly removed her hand from his. "Do I understand you correctly? Are you asking me to come live with you without the blessing of the church?"

Juan shifted in his chair. "Well, something like that. But you would have unlimited access to all my resources—the mansion, the imported gowns…" He refilled her empty wine glass.

Another, giddier voice countered the sleepy one: _Juan was just making a business proposal, that's all. There's no need to take offense._

Elizabeth replied evenly, "I have my honor to consider. I would never accept being a 'kept woman' just to have luxuries. I had all of those things in my former life. I chose to have my freedom, even if I must work hard every day, over living my life in a pretty cage. No, thank you. I will stay with the ship." Juan refilled her empty wine glass.

Juan raised his eyebrows briefly at her words, but he was not put off by her negative reply. "You have lived on a ship with many men for who knows how long, and you still maintain your honor! I see….hmm." He refilled her empty wine glass again. "Well then…eat your maracuyá and we will talk of other things."

His voice returned to the deep, silky timbre of moments earlier. "You _are _a woman of strong passion, Elisabete. You are a bright fire in a dim and mundane world. I am not surprised that you are drawn to the fruit of the maracuyá."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked around a dripping bite of the extremely juicy fruit. She unsuccessfully dabbed at her chin with her napkin before reaching for her wine glass.

"In Brazil, is called maracuyá…but you English call it 'passion fruit'. Your people claim that it is because the flowers depict the passions of the Christ. But those with a fiery, sensual disposition such as yours are drawn to the fruit of the maracuyá, the passion fruit. It cools the blood for a little while and helps you to endure the mundane."

He stood and moved to Elizabeth's side. He captured a precarious drip of maracuyá juice from her chin with his forefinger and slowly licked it off, watching her reaction. She distractedly licked her lips ever so slightly as she watched him. He took her hand again, and gently kissed her palm, then continued kissing slowly up the inside of her wrist. Elizabeth gasped and her whole body tingled at the unexpected sensations of his lips and mustache on her skin.

His voice dropped to a soft throaty growl. "But the blood soon boils again when the maracuyá is gone. Since you will have refused my first offer, perhaps you will consider an alternate offer to cool your blood." He leaned slowly toward her, and his mustache gently caressed her ear as he whispered to her.

Elizabeth shot to her feet. The paua handled knife was already in her hand. Before Juan could react, she had the knife at his throat. "I am NOT that kind of woman!" she roared. "If you EVER speak to me like that again, I'll cut your throat! In fact, if you ever speak to me at all I may just kill you anyway!" She rocked unsteadily for a moment as all the wine she had consumed slammed into her veins at once. She recovered enough to pick up the roll of snake skin before she stalked haughtily out of the tent. She missed the opening and got tangled in the net for a moment before angrily slashing herself free with the knife.

She stopped just outside the tent. Weaving gently to and fro, she turned back to Juan. "Despite my outward appearance, I AM a lady, Mister Pardal. And as such I must thank you for the delissish…nice meal. This began as a very pleasant evening." She turned away from him, pitching and yawing in a storm of alcohol and anger down the stone road back to the Black Pearl.

As she swayed out of sight, Juan rubbed his throat. He picked up her unfinished glass of Port and tossed it down in one gulp. "Is just as well," he said to himself, "It would have been difficult to produce a mansion on a cliff if she had agreed. But she _is_ lovely! And fierce! And if she is as she says, still a _virgin_? Ahhh! What a woman!" He shrugged. "She will be back. What woman can resist me for long? I am, after all, Panama Juan Pardal!" He called for his servants before lifting a large piece of maracuyá and dropping it into his mouth.

* * *

It took Elizabeth longer than she thought it should to get back to the ship. She did not recall following so many bends and curves in the road earlier. When she finally reached the Pearl, the rope ladder was still hanging down over the side. As the whole world was already listing hard to starboard, Elizabeth didn't notice that the ladder was swinging wildly. It took her a moment to puzzle out where to put the knife and the roll of leather in order to free up both hands to climb. She stared up the ladder at the ship's rail high above her headt. It seemed to take hours, but she eventually managed to get up the miles of ladder and slid over the rail into a boneless heap on the deck. She could hear muffled snorting, then peals of hysterical laughter coming from behind the door to Jack's cabin. 

A muzzy thought shambled across her mind. _ I didn't know he held parties in there…_

She crawled under the stairs and curled up with her head pillowed on her wadded up coat, and her hand on her sword. In seconds she was soundly asleep.

* * *

A/N: More Babelfishing in the Portuguese language sea. Forgive me if I misused words. 

Atraente: lovely


	27. Chapter 27 Aftermath

_**CH 27 Aftermath**_

The next morning Elizabeth awoke with a thunderous headache. Something fuzzy and bad-tasting had replaced her tongue during the night. The orchid that had been behind her ear was crushed into her coat, and the strip of cloth with which she had tied back her hair was nowhere to be found.

She was well aware of how she had come to acquire the headache. But when she reached up to push the hair out of her eyes, she could not remember how she had gotten mud all over her hands. The events of the night before were clear enough in her memory. She recalled the excellent food, Juan's flattery, his indecent propositions and her dramatic if retrospectively embarrassing exit. But she did not remember tripping or falling or doing anything else that might have brought her into contact with mud. She cautiously crawled out from under the steps and carefully stood upright, blinking painfully in the bright light.

Jack was sitting on the quarterdeck steps, scraping mud off his boots. Elizabeth looked to where the rope ladder had been pulled aboard and dropped in a pile. There was mud on the wooden rungs.

"Good morning, Miss Swann. Slit any throats lately?" Jack smirked as he scraped the sole of a boot with his knife.

Elizabeth's head pounded. "Did you…follow… me last night?"

"Me? Follow you? Why would I bother to do that? You're a big girl and you made it quite clear that you could take care of yourself. I just went for a lovely evening stroll to pick flowers after supper, all by my onesies. I happened to overhear a few words of your conversation with your dear new friend Juan, ''s'all."

Elizabeth glared at him. "My...head…hurts too much… to talk…about this now."

"Drank too much last night, did we? Tsk, tsk. To think you once chastised me for drinking too much rum! You need to learn to handle strong drink better than that. And have you noticed how loudly I'm not saying 'I told you so'?"

He finished scraping the other boot, and put his knife back into his sash. Gesturing at the pile of dried mud he said cheerfully, "Look at this! Clean this up. I can't have piles of dirt just lying about on the deck of my ship!" He whisked his hands at the dirt as if he was trying to shoo it overboard. "And while you're about it, put that ladder away properly. You were the last one to use it, after all." He turned to go up the steps.

He stopped and looked back at her. Very quietly he added, "You made the right choice, love." Then he bounded up the steps to the helm, where he busied himself with looking into the jungle through his spyglass and cheerfully singing a loud and toneless song about cutting throats.

Elizabeth groaned and went in search of a mop and bucket. She wished she had an undead monkey to shoot right then. But she knew that the sound of the gun shot would just make her aching head pound even more.

Juan appeared shortly and called out to Jack. "Captain, I advise you to have your, ahem, _crew,_ to tie down anything that might shift aboard your ship. We begin the ascent into the mountains today:" Elizabeth saw Juan's eyes flick quickly toward her. But when she looked right at him, he would not look at her. She wondered if he believed that she really would cut his throat.

_Maybe I should_, she thought. _All my life I've been taught that true gentlemen behave as such at all times. Juan's behavior fooled me completely. How can I ever trust any man after that?_

Slitting Juan's throat sounded like appropriate revenge for the hangover at the very least. She fingered the hilt of her knife and smiled at the thought…and winced--smiling made her head throb.

* * *

Deafeningly loud screeching drew the attention of all the pirates to the sky beyond the stern of the ship. A blue and gold macaw swooped down low over the ship, followed closely by a much larger deep red macaw. The blue parrot screamed "Man the cannons!" as it veered and wove between the rigging and the yardarms. The larger parrot couldn't turn as quickly as the smaller one, and had to slow down to avoid slamming into the yards. The blue macaw made its escape into the trees and disappeared. The red bird circled the ship once before flying back in the direction from which it had come, screaming at the top of its considerable lungs.

Elizabeth wished briefly for death. The strident voices of the big birds pierced directly into her aching brain like a sharp knife. She put her hands over her ears. Movement nearby drew her attention to Cotton. He was pointing at the blue macaw, doubled over shaking and holding his stomach. Tears of silent laughter streamed from his eyes.

More screeching from the sky interrupted him. The blue and gold parrot was headed their way at high speed once again. This time it was being chased by two smaller parrots, one a gaudy yellow, the other a bright scarlet with rainbows of color on its wings. They were taking turns diving at the larger bird, grabbing at its feathers with their beaks. The macaw swooped low, folded its wings and smacked into the deck belly first. It skidded and rolled the length of the deck, and finally came to a halt lying on its back against a coil of rope. A unison groan went up from the pirates. Phillip's voice drifted up. "Ow! Didja see that! 'e went fully longitude over latitude!"

The two feathered pursuers pulled up, perched on the highest yard and shrieked in fury because they dared not pursue their quarry so near to the humans. When they finished voicing their anger in ear-splitting psittacine harmony, the colorful duet flew off together. The entire crew stared at Cotton's still overset parrot, uncertain whether it had survived the crash. Nothing on the deck moved for several seconds.

The blue and gold macaw slowly righted itself, and shook its head vigorously. It lifted one foot and then the other, rocking from side to side as it flexed its toes. It contorted its neck to reach behind its shoulder and used its beak to properly rearrange the long cobalt blue flight feathers on one wing. It repeated the process on the other wing, and then contorted even more to reach its tail feathers. It combed each of them methodically from base to tip with its beak, bending and releasing one long turquoise feather at a time. After it completed grooming its tail, it puffed up its body feathers and shook itself to settle them all in their correct places. When it was satisfied that all the feathers were properly arranged and its extremities were all in working order, it waddled across the deck to Cotton. It grabbed the leg of his trousers with its beak and slowly pulled itself up to his shoulder beak over foot, climbing his clothing like rigging.

The crew looked on in dumbfounded silence. When the bird had returned to its normal place on Cotton's shoulder, everyone could see that it had many fuzzy gray patches where its colorful feathers were missing, especially around the back of its head. The macaw shook what was left of its feathers and in a creditable imitation of Jack's voice it clearly stated, "I may have deserved that."


	28. Chapter 28 Aqua Vitae

_**CH 28 Aqua Vitae**_

Once they were underway, the bow of the ship began to tilt upward as the caravan climbed the first large foothill. The stone road was a switchback, so the incline was not as steep as the hillside. But it was steep enough to make it difficult to stand on the deck. Many of the pirates climbed up onto the fo'c's'le and stood clinging to the bow rails for balance.

The Pearl's bow projected past the front wheels of the carrier. As the ship progressed up the incline, her bow swung out over the edge of the road at sharp curves. The pirates could see the tops of trees just below them at those curves, as if the Pearl's bow wave was leafy fronds instead of frothy water.

As they gained altitude the forest gradually evolved from tropical palm trees to deciduous hardwood trees. Higher and higher they went until the jungle below looked as far away as seaweed on the bottom of a clear lagoon.

It was slow going with many rests for the mules, but they made it to a level place at the top of the first foothill just at sunset. The trees were not as densely clustered together as they had been further down the hillside. The pirates were treated to a brilliant red sunset over the mountains of Panama. After the sun sank below the tree line, stars began to appear in the cloudless black sky. Phillip spoke for all of them when he said "It's good to see the stars clear again. It ain't natural to have trees arched above the masts of a ship!"

The night sounds were different on the hillside. The roars of the jaguars were only faint cries in the distance. The bird calls were softer, and the incessant frog trilling was absent. The evening breeze teased the tree branches, making them whisper and sigh. The first night the crew spent on the foothills was the most peaceful one they'd had since leaving the Pacific.

In the morning the caravan set off again, descending the switchback road on the other side of the foothill into the valley beyond. It was easier on the mules to go downhill, but it was no faster.

During a mule break, Jack called down to Juan. "Why are we going down so slowly? Seems that this is the easy part!"

Juan replied "If we allow the carrier to go too fast down the hill, it could break loose and become out of control. That would endanger your lovely ship, yes?"

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "We can't have that now, can we?"

--

The next morning they set off as soon as the sunrise lit up the sky. The section of road that led through the valley had not survived the years as well as the first section had. Whole sections of the road had collapsed, leaving only a rutted cart track to mark where the stones had once been. As they progressed into the valley the ground became soggier, and the carrier had to be dragged and pried out of the mud several times. Juan's men became more argumentative as the day wore on. There was much shouting between two groups of them, and Juan looked quite worried. Jack remained at the helm the entire day, watching ahead as if trying to plot their course.

He could clearly see that the stone road went straight ahead through some brush, yet Juan ordered the caravan to curve to the left, following what appeared to be a muddy forest track. Jack peered ahead, and through a break in the trees he could see a broad expanse of water not very far ahead of the mules and the Pearl. The stone road led directly into the lake.

"Juan! Stop us! Stop now!" he called out. Juan ordered the caravan to halt, and came back to the ship.

"What is the problem, Captain?"

"What's that water ahead? Why does the road lead there and why are we not taking it?"

"That is Lagos Alajuela, a section of the Chagres River. The river has widened into a lake in this spot since the Spanish were first here. The road used to run along the bank of the river. But the lake continues to become deeper and wider, and it has consumed the road. Now we take a trail around the lake and pick up the road on the other side."

"I want to put the Pearl into the lake."

"Surely you joke, Captain! There is no ramp, no dock. There is no way to get your ship into the lake or out again."

"Mister Pardal, she needs to be in the water. She's beginning to crack at the seams, despite all the tar. If she doesn't get a good soaking soon, by the time we get to the Atlantic she'll sink straight to the bottom as soon as you unload her from this….thing. That will not equate to getting her to the Atlantic safely and in one piece. And of course there's a ramp! The road leads right into the bloody lake! It must come out somewhere. Now I want my ship in that lake. Savvy?"

Juan shook his head. "You ask the impossible, Captain Sparrow. But I will talk to my men and return with their answer." He walked to the front of the mule teams and began waving his hands and calling his men together.

From the fo'c'sle, the pirates could see the meeting. Juan's men were clustered together in three groups—one of Portuguese and Brazilian men, one of black men and one made up of the small men from the Guaymi. The pirates could hear the men shouting at each other, but they could not make out all that was said. They could see the men shaking their fists at Juan. Juan turned from one group of his crew to the next, switching rapidly between English and two other languages. Juan made placating gestures with his hands as if holding some of the men back. His voice grew louder and softer in turns. Eventually one man stepped out from each group and they walked away from the larger group with Juan. After a few minutes, they seemed to reach an agreement. The men returned to their groups. Juan returned to the Pearl, after stopping at his supply wagon first. He was smiling as he walked back to the ship.

"My men say there is a way to put your ship into Lagos Alajuela. But first I must speak to you alone, Captain. Please come down."

Jack slid down a truss line, dropped to the ground and approached him. Juan beckoned him to walk away from the ship to an area where they had relative privacy. Jack kept one hand near his weapons.

Juan spoke in a low voice, "If it can be done, this idea could work to our mutual benefit, Captain. You want to get to the ocean quickly, but the mules they are only able to go so fast while pulling your ship. Without the ship's weight, they go much quicker. We meet you on the other side of the lake, bypassing several days of slow travel on the mountain roads.

But you may have noticed I have a, how you say, labor dispute among my crew. Some of them have become impatient with the task of hauling your ship. They wish to be paid immediately so they can leave my employ and return to their homes. I am afraid I have to ask for payment in advance of our original agreement so I may pay them, or they threaten to kill me and leave you and your ship stranded in the jungle." He turned both hands palms up and shook his head. "I'm sure you understand mutiny, Captain."

Jack looked at the ground, remembering Barbossa and the mutiny that left him on a desert island with only a pistol, powder and one shot. He didn't trust Juan at all, but he remembered exactly how that particular dilemma felt. "Aye, I understand it."

"There is more, Captain. The men, they protest the extra work that will be required to unload your ship into the lake and load her onto the carrier again. They want extra pay or they will not do as you ask."

Jack sighed. "What's their fee for the lake?"

"Another one hundred fifty pieces of gold."

Jack maintained a serious face. "There's only one problem. I keep the valuables locked up in a very secure safe aboard my ship, so's to prevent thievery and other such unforgivable acts of lawlessness. My bloody clumsy first mate dropped the only key into the Pacific. It's going to take some time for me to break into the safe to get your money. Will you give me until we get ashore on the other side?"

Juan brightened. "Of course, Captain. Agreed. I will tell my men to expect payment when we meet up with you across the lake." He smiled and returned to his men, shouting something in Portuguese. The men began to shout to one another again, but this time their voices did not sound angry.

The mule teams were unhitched from the front of the carrier, and led around to the rear. The handlers attached them to the back of the carriage. As many of Juan's men as could lay their hands on it crowded around the carrier. On a signal from a man at the front of the mule teams, the men began to push the Pearl toward the lake. The mule driver cracked a whip over the heads of the front pairs of mules. Handlers next to the mules guided them backwards, and gradually the teams backed up. The Pearl slowly rolled toward the water. The mule driver shouted at the men as the wheels of the carrier reached the water's edge, and the men near the front began climbing up the bank out of the way.

The mule driver stopped the teams when all eight wheels were in the water. The ground crew rushed to lash ropes around the carrier's frame. They tied them around trees to brace the carriage so the mules were not dragged into the lake.

The front set of wheels was nearly submerged. The Pearl dangled on the carrier at a precarious angle, with her bowsprit dipped into the water. The pirates clung to the rigging and rails to keep from sliding down the deck to the fo'c'sle bulkhead. Jack shouted for someone to take a sounding to check the water's depth. Tobias climbed out on the bowsprit as far as the figurehead, He dropped a knotted rope with a hollow weight on the end straight down into the lake. When he pulled it out he shouted "two and a half fathoms and a bit more, Cap'n, and she's clean!"

Jack said "It's going to be close. She may bottom out on the way down. She could scrape on the road or hit rocks. Mister Gibbs, break out the sweeps and position men at each station. Be prepared to row on my command."

Gibbs began shouting, and twenty of the pirates hurried below. Long oars were untied from their storage positions on the beams that supported the main deck above. The gun ports doubled as openings through which oars could be lowered to the water. The pirates seated themselves on anything that was handy; barrels, crates, cannon wheels, and gripped the handles of the sweeps, ready for Jack's command.

Jack turned to Juan who was at the top of the incline. "So how do we get her free of this thing?"

"Simply cut the ropes, Captain, and your ship will slide free of the carrier. But first, you must observe something."

Juan walked closer to the edge of the lake. He held up a piece of roasted chicken tied to a string. "There are fish in the lake that you should not wish to encounter. The natives call them _caribe_. It means cannibal. In English they are called piranha."

He tossed the piece of chicken into the lake. The water seemed to boil as a myriad of silvery fish piled on top of one another where the chicken had hit the surface. In just a few seconds the water calmed. Juan pulled the string up. All that was left of the chicken was a bare bone. Jack's normal slightly smug expression shifted quickly from smug to surprise to dismay to nausea.

"Remember, Captain, no matter what happens, do not go into the water."

Jack forced his expression to return to normal. "Right then. Where do we meet you on the other side?"

Juan pulled a small map out of a pocket and studied it. "Sail due north, and when you reach the opposite shore, sail west and look for a break in the trees where a similar road leads out of the water."

"When should we expect you to meet us?"

It will take us easily four days to go around the lake as we must go over a mountain to stay on the road. You should be able to get across the lake in less than three with all your strong men on the oars. It would be even faster to sail, but then you would simply wait longer for us. So enjoy your voyage, Captain!"

Jack ordered everyone who was not at sweeps stations to cut the ropes holding the Pearl to the carrier, starting at the bow. The pirates hacked at the thick ropes with swords and hatchets. As the ropes gave way, the ship began to creak and the carrier answered with low groans as the woods of the two crafts rubbed together. As more ropes loosened up, the Pearl began to slide forward into the water. She was still steeply angled downward on the carrier frame. When only four ropes remained, she slid several feet at once. The forward gun ports, open to allow the sweeps to protrude, were partially submerged. A frantic shout came up from below deck "We're takin' on water!!"

The pirates on the deck redoubled their efforts to cut through the remaining truss ropes. The last rope parted, and the Pearl shot forward. Her natural buoyancy pulled the bow upward as the stern left the carrier. The gun ports came out of the lake and the momentum of sliding off the carrier took her out into open water.

Juan called to Jack from the shore. "Oh, Captain? We will expect to receive your payment before we pull your ship out of the lake. I'm sure that will be enough time for you to open your safe." He smiled and waved before turning his back on the ship.


	29. Chapter 29 Fish in the Hold

_**CH 29 Fish in a Barrel**_

The lake was calm, almost mirror flat. But the Black Pearl suddenly shuddered from bow to stern as if she'd been struck broadside by a wave. Jack placed a hand on the helm and spoke very quietly and soothingly. "I know it tastes bad, love. But it's for your own good. You won't be in here long. Soon enough you'll have salt water around you again." Another shudder ran through the ship. "No? 's not it? I don't know what you're tellin' me then. I wish you could talk to me, darlin'"

Gibbs poked his head out of the hatch in time to hear Juan's last comments to Jack. He turned to the captain. "Mary, mother of God, Cap'n! What have ye gotten us into this time? What this about a safe? And payment _before_ they haul us out of here?" The pirates on the sweeps heard Gibbs' words, and rushed for the hatches. Gibbs barely got off the ladder before they began swarming up from the hold. Soon the whole crew crowded around Jack, waiting for his answer.

Jack shrugged and held his hands palms up. He laughed, perhaps a little nervously. "Oh, that little trifle! We just need to come up with four hundred and fifty pieces of gold by the time we get across this lake, 's'all. I told Juan we needed some time to open our reluctant safe."

A groan went up from the pirates. The whole crew began voicing their concerns. "What're we goin'ta do now, Cap'n?" "He said they won't pull us out without their payment." "And we canna do it ourselves, didja see those fishes? I bet they'd eat a man's leg just as fast!" "Where's there a safe aboard the ship?" "We're goin' ta be trapped in this godforsaken pond forever unless you find a way to pay 'em, Cap'n!"

Jack waved them down with both hands. "I know, I know. If we don't come up with the gold, the Pearl will be stuck here until we can go ashore and pull her out ourselves!" His eyes got a far-away look. He snapped his fingers. "Get back to the sweeps. I want to cross this lake as fast as possible!" Twenty men grumbled under their breath as they headed back to the oars. A second later someone shouted "There's piranhas all over the gun deck!"

Jack went below to investigate. He stopped halfway down the ladder. There were fish flopping around on the deck; some were as large as a dinner plate. All of them were gasping and their many sharp teeth were visible in their gaping mouths even in the dim light below deck. Jack took in the situation for a few seconds before asking "Doesn't anybody aboard this ship know how to use a spear?"

Soon the pirates were having an impromptu spear fishing expedition on the gun deck of the Pearl, using swords, knives, and bayonets from the armory. When it was over they gathered up half a barrel full of dead piranhas, all of which were large enough to eat. Some of them were large enough to share. Gibbs assigned Cotton and Phillip the unenviable task of cleaning all the fish and preparing them for the crew's evening meal.

Once the deck was cleared of piranhas, each of the pirates on the sweeps took hold of an oar. Gibbs stood under the open rear hatch so he could hear Jack's commands, and began calling out a rhythmic chant. The oars stroked the water in unison, and the Black Pearl began her first voyage on fresh water. Jack stood at the helm, staring out at the large lake. Without using a spyglass, the opposite shore was barely visible in the distance.

The ship moved sluggishly. Jack frowned. Fresh water was different than salt water, this much was true. He had expected the Pearl to ride a bit lower in the lake than she normally did in the ocean. But she was behaving as if she had an overloaded cargo hold.

"Mister Pintel! Go check the bilge."

Pintel replied 'Why me?'

Without looking at him, Jack replied "Because you're obviously needing something to occupy your apparently endless free time, and I'm busy doing captain things."

Pintel grumbled under his breath and reluctantly headed toward the hatch. Ragetti tagged along, as he had nothing better to do. The two tromped down to the ladder leading to the bilge. Pintel went down first, but he stopped before he reached the bottom. Something was different—the smell wasn't nearly as bad as usual. There was more water in the bilge than normal. Barrels were floating around and the bottom rungs of the ladder were submerged.

"Gimme a ramrod!" he said to his nephew. Ragetti poked his head out of the bilge hatch, grabbed a nearby wooden cannon ramrod that was lying on the deck and handed it down the ladder

Pintel dipped the handle into the water, feeling for the deck to check the depth. Something hit the end of the ramrod. When he lifted it out of the water, a large piranha was clinging to the other end. Pintel screamed, dropped the ramrod into the bilge and scrambled back up the ladder, shoving Ragetti up and out of his way. He ran back up to the helm shouting "Cap'n! Come quick! There's some o'them bitey fishes in the bilge! And the bilge is nigh thigh high in water as well!"

Jack looked annoyed. "They're not 'bitey fishes'. They're called purr..." He scowled and stroked his chin as he thought out loud. "Purples…no…pirouettes…no, that's not right… piroghis …Oh, bugger! What was it? Perennials … Ah! Piranhas! That's what they are, piranhas! Get down there and get them out instead of bothering me with it! And pump out the bilge while you're down there. The extra weight is bogging down my ship. Go on, what're you waiting for?" He shooed Pintel away with his hands.

* * *

"I once heard that fishing is supposed to be spiritually rewarding."

"Where'd ya hear that?"

"In church. The priest was talkin' about how fishing, for men, is good for the soul."

Pintel mumbled a string of curse words describing his nephew's questionable parentage and intelligence in a most unflattering manner. Ragetti ignored him and cheerfully announced, "I got another one!" He yanked upward on the end of the long marlin spike he held in his hands, and a piranha sailed out of the water. Its teeth were sunk into a piece of salt pork. The salt pork dangled on the end of a length of unraveled rope tied into the eye of the spike. Ragetti dropped the fish onto the deck next to him and methodically thumped its head with the butt of his pistol until it lay still. He pried the masticated pork carefully out of its jaws and then tossed the fish into a nearby pile of its deceased kin. Then he re-tied the string around the bait and dropped it back into the water through the bilge hatch. He dangled his feet over the edge of the hatch opening and swung them to and fro happily, holding his heavy ersatz fishing pole with both hands.

'How many more do you suppose are in there?" he asked Pintel.

"Why don't ye just take a walk in the water and find out?"

* * *

The empty wooden kegs barely fit his big flat feet. They also had the annoying habit of trying to float each time he took a step. But they were tall enough to keep the bilge water and its occupants away from his legs. He walked like a crippled stork because the casks kept his feet farther apart than normal, and he had to shuffle to move. But he was able to make his way over to the bilge pump with feet intact.

His uncle hadn't fared quite so well. One of his kegs had tipped over briefly as he tried to walk, and had partially filled with water. He bellowed like a cow every few steps. "Ow! It's got me again! Ow! Bloody hell! OUCH!" He stood still, staring like a cat at a fishbowl into the keg in which his foot soaked. A sudden grab and he had the fish by the tail. "Dammit to bleedin' hell!" he shouted as he jerked it out of the bloody water. The two inch piranha spit out a small piece of Pintel's ankle flesh as it flopped and twisted in its attempts to bite his fingers. He slapped it against the hull, and the fish went limp.

"Come on! Cap'n says we've got to pump out this bilge right smart! I can't do it alone."

Pintel threw the small dead fish at his nephew in disgust, and continued sloshing toward the bilge pump.

When they were finished pumping, the bilge water depth had returned to its normal six inches or so. The bilge deck was littered with flopping piranhas and dozens of partially eaten dead rats.

"Lookit that! At least they did some good while they was aboard! Hey up there! Somebody bring the bayonets and another barrel! We've got breakfast!"


	30. Chapter 30 Trees In the Water

_**CH 30 Trees in the Water**_

Hours passed. The crewmen on the sweeps continued rowing away from the shore of the lake. Gibbs passed along the task of chanting rhythm to Mister Stubbs, who had a voice like a bull elephant. Gibbs joined Jack near the helm. Jack watched for obstacles as he swept his spyglass across the surface of the water. Juan had said this was originally a river that had flooded over its banks. There could well be submerged trees or any sort of rock outcroppings or even old buildings hiding just below the water's surface waiting to injure the Pearl.

Jack called to Tobias and Jacob, who were up in the rigging. "Lads, come down and take watch positions on port and starboard bow! Look into the water!"

The boys came down immediately. When they got to the bow rail, Tobias called back to Jack, "Captain? What're we lookin' for?"

"Trees, lad! Trees in the lake!"

The brothers glanced at each other and raised their eyebrows. Indeed, the captain truly was daft.

Even with the bilge emptied, the Pearl was still not moving as fast as Jack had expected her to. She wasn't even going in the direction Jack had ordered. No matter how many times he corrected their course back to due north, the ship soon drifted off toward northeast again. Jack cursed the oarsmen more than once for their ineptitude. The distant opposite shore remained just as distant, even as the shore from which they'd launched faded into the distance behind them. Elizabeth got the impression that the lake was getting larger as they crossed it.

A loud scraping noise echoed up from the hull. The Pearl shuddered to an abrupt halt, as if something had grabbed her by the stern and jerked her backward. The oarsmen stopped rowing. From below deck, Stubbs bellowed, "Did we run aground?"

Jacob leaned over the rail and shouted "Captain!!! Ship off the starboard…uh…keel!"

Gibbs replied "Ya dimwitted bottom feeder, if there was a ship off the starboard keel, It'd have to be…." He looked at Jack and they voiced the words together. … below us!"

Jack and Gibbs dashed up to the bow and leaned over the side to peer into the water. The lake was clear, and the sunlight reached well into the depths. Jack put his hands around his eyes to block reflections and stared into the water for a moment before turning back toward the deck, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

"It's a Spanish galleon. Gentlemen, prepare to do some pirating!"

The pirates who were already on the deck cheered and rushed up to the bow to look down into the water. Gibbs ordered the men on the sweeps to pull them in and come topside. When everyone was assembled, Jack waved his hands to quiet them.

"There's a Spanish galleon on the bottom of this lake. I don't know how she got there, but I suspect that Mister Juan wasn't the first person to have the idea of taking ships overland. Whatd'ye always find on Spanish galleons, men?"

The pirates all raised their fists and shouted "Gold!"

"Aye, mates! I'm willin' to bet there's gold down there, and it's ours for the takin'!" Jack was grinning like a man who had just inherited a fortune.

Elizabeth spoke up. "What about the piranhas?" The smile fell from Jack's face.

"Oh, bugger."

He thought for a moment and then turned to Gibbs. "Do we have any grenades made up?"

Gibbs nodded. "Aye, we've got a small trunk of them in the armory locker. But why do ye want grenades?"

"Humor me and go fetch'em, and a linstock as well."

Gibbs sent two men to go bring up the trunk of grenades. When they returned, Jack opened it and took out what appeared to be a small round pottery vase with a fuse in the neck. Gibbs shoved a piece of hempen match cord into the holder on the end of the metal linstock. He lit it with his flint and steel. It began smoking and sputtering. Sparks flew off of it randomly. He held up the linstock and said "Alright, Jack. I'll humor ye."

Jack touched the fuse of the grenade to the smoldering hemp. It began to spark. Jack pulled back and threw the grenade as far out into the lake off the port bow as he could. It hit the water at least two hundred feet from the ship, and sank. The pirates all stared at Jack. Gibbs said, "I'm still humorin' ye Jack, but it's not funny yet."

Water fountained out of the lake as the grenade exploded. Ripples spread in a widening circle away from the point of the explosion. As the surface of the lake stilled, fish began floating to the surface within the circle. Every one of them was a piranha.

* * *

"How many of you bilge rats can swim?" Jack asked the assembled crew. 

The pirates looked as if they'd been asked how many of them could fly. Some of them laughed, others just stared at Jack and shook their heads.  
Only one hand went up. It was Elizabeth's.

Jack looked at her, and then back at the men. "You mean to tell me that all of you call yourselves sailors and the only one of you that knows how to swim is a woman?"

Nobody spoke. Finally one man replied "The water is the devil's playground, Cap'n. Most of us feels that if we goes overboard, then it's just our time to go and there's no sense fightin' it."

Jack shook his head in disgust. "Any man worth his salt learns to fight for his life every way he can."

He turned to Elizabeth. "I have seen you swim, so I know you're telling the truth there. How long can you hold your breath?"

"I can hold it for a little while, but I don't know exactly how long."

"It'll have to do. It appears that you'll finally get your chance to do some pirating!"

"Cap'n! Look!" Gibbs was pointing at the circle of fish on the surface of the lake. Some of them had only been stunned, and thrashed in the water for a moment before flipping over and diving away. Other piranhas were ferociously tearing the dead ones apart. "That was only about five minutes, I reckon", said Gibbs. "That won't leave a lot of time to get down and back up with the gold."

Jack sat down on the fo'c's'le hatch cover and put his chin in his hand. Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but Jack cut him off. "Let me think in peace, Mister Gibbs."

Gibbs backed off and left Jack to his thoughts. It was a lovely morning, the Pearl wasn't going anywhere and nobody had been given orders. Gibbs took advantage of the opportunity to sit down on the deck and take a little nip out of his flask.

* * *

Half an hour later, Jack returned to awareness from his contemplation of the situation. He looked around him. The entire crew was snoring on the deck, except for Elizabeth. She was leaning on the rail looking down at the shadowy ship resting on the bottom of the lake. 

Jack walked over to join her. "What're you thinking; love?"

"I was just wondering how she got down there, and what happened to the people who might have been aboard her."

"We may find out when we get down there, and it might not be pretty. Think you can handle it?"

Elizabeth turned to face him. "I'm sure I can."

"Good. Because I have this all worked out." He began clapping his hands and shouting to wake the crew. When they were all looking in his general direction, Jack began to explain his plan.


	31. Chapter 31 Gold and Gunpowder

**_CH 31 Gold and Gunpowder  
_**

"It appears that the grenades stun or kill the piranhas. It takes roughly five minutes for them to revive and for more to come around. During those five minutes, Miss Swann and I are going to dive to the ship and remove whatever valuables we find." He smiled. "And I'm sure we will find them. But gold is heavy. We won't be able to carry it up to the surface fast enough. Therefore we need something to hold the treasure on the lake bottom. We'll dive as many times as we can, and you lot will haul it in."

The men nodded and murmured among themselves. Aside from the bizarre concept of swimming on purpose, and the insanity of diving into a lake full of man-eating fish, this sounded like the best plan they had ever heard Jack put forth. They would get to pull up the treasure, but none of them had to dive into the lake.

Jack started calling out orders. "I want a depth sounding next to the galleon." Tobias and Jacob scrambled to get the sounding line. Soon Jacob called out "Six fathoms to mud, Cap'n!"

"Perfect! What's the count on the grenades?"

"Seven, cap'n!"

"If we have less than five minutes to get down and back up before the piranhas reappear, we'll have to work fast. We'll need a net and rigging to drop it to the bottom and hoist it again. We'll also need two pieces of chain shot and two six-fathom ropes. And Mister Gibbs, move the watch bell to the starboard rail and add a rope to that too."

"Whatfer, Captain?"

"If trouble ensues, you lot can hoist us out of the water in the net faster than we could swim to the surface and climb a ladder. If we ring the bell, start hoistin'!"

Jack began pulling off his boots. He removed his hat and his vest, and laid them on the boots. Elizabeth noticed that he left his knife in his sash.

"I'll go down first and check out the lay of things. Who's got a good throwing arm?"

Several of the men stepped forward. Jack had each of them go through the motions of throwing a grenade. Only one of them looked like he could throw instead of just imitating a damaged windmill. Jack ducked into the galley and came back with a black and shriveled potato.

"Here, throw this." The potato flew easily twice the length of the Pearl before splashing into the lake. "Mister Moore, you're our grenade man. On my command, pitch a lighted grenade off the starboard bow about a hundred feet beyond the galleon."

As many men as could fit leaned over the rail to watch as Jack climbed down the ladder that was built onto the hull of the ship. He paused just above the water and stood on the bottom rung. He turned to face away from the ship. He closed his eyes and appeared to go to sleep lightly gripping the ladder with one hand. The crew leaned over the rail, anxious to see what he was going to do. But Jack did nothing. He stood there for several minutes. His breathing became very shallow. Just when the pirates started to think he was going to fall asleep and slump into the water, he spoke quietly "Mister Moore, pitch that grenade."

Moore held out the grenade to Gibbs. Gibbs touched the fuse with the sputtering linstock. The fuse lit, and Moore hauled back and heaved the bomb into the air. It sailed out into the lake, landed with a splash, and a few seconds later the lake water sprayed into the air. Piranhas began drifting up to the surface.

Jack took one deep breath, opened his eyes and dove straight down into the lake. Elizabeth began counting seconds under her breath when he hit the water. "One one thousand, two one thousand…" At first, the pirates could see him through the water, but as he dove deeper his form became faint and then imperceptible.

Elizabeth leaned over the rail and waited for his ascent. She reached sixty on her count and began again, marking one minute with her extended thumb pressed against her leg. Two minutes passed, another finger extended. She began to wonder if Jack had gotten caught by piranhas. Was he trapped in the ship? Would he make it back to the surface? She felt her heart racing as the fear intensified. The pirates began to murmur amongst themselves. Three fingers extended and pressed hard against her leg. Elizabeth saw something moving in the water. A few bubbles came up under the ladder and popped on the calm surface.

Seconds later, Jack's head broke the surface. He gasped for air and grabbed for the ladder. He pulled himself out of the lake and hung there, eyes closed. He breathed deeply for a moment, and then he began breathing slower as he had before the dive. When his breathing was normal, he climbed up the ladder and swung easily over the rail onto the deck. His gold teeth were all visible as he smiled widely at the crew. He took something from his pocket and held it out in front of him. In his palm lay one bright gold Spanish dubloon.

"This was not alone down there. We will be able to pay Juan in full and never miss it."

The cheers of the pirates drowned out anything else Jack might have said for the next five minutes.

* * *

When they quieted down, Jack spoke again. "There's anything you could imagine down there, mates! Gold bullion, coins, jewels, churchy things…." His voice trailed off. "And skeletons, many more than should have been on one ship." 

"Skeletons!" The crew all started asking questions at once.

Jack looked at Elizabeth. He said quietly, "I told you it might be ugly. Are you still prepared to do this?"

She frowned. "Are they walking?"

"No…."

"Fine, then. As long as they don't get up and drag me to Barbossa, I can do it."

Nearby, Pintel and Ragetti exchanged a look and both grimaced simultaneously.

Jack smiled at Elizabeth, which took her by surprise. He had not smiled at her except to make small jokes at her expense in a very long time. "The sun's above the yard already. Let's get on with this before it gets dark!" He turned to the crew.

"There's lots of small bits, coins and such, that'll fall through a net. We'll need something solid to hold them. Do we have any bags aboard?"

"Aye, Cap'n," came Phillip's voice. "There's some sacks in the galley what held the onions we got off that Spanish merchant ship."

"Get'em, and bring a blanket as well."

Phillip went off on his errand. When he returned, he was carrying an armload of cloth bags and an old blanket.

""Make the net solid with the blanket. When it's ready, attach it to the tackles and the capstan. Tie the chain shot to the ropes, and tie those off to cleats on the starboard rail. And drop another ladder next to this one" He took the sacks, tucked some of them into his belt and handed the rest to Elizabeth.

"Put these in your belt and come with me." He led her over near her alcove, away from the noisy crew.

"With just the two of us diving, it's going to take all we can do to get that gold out of that ship. You need to learn to dive. It took me almost a year to learn to dive properly. You'll have to catch on quicker than that."

"Why do you need help with this? You were down there for at least three minutes. What can I possibly do that could be helpful?"

"There are chests down there that I can't move alone. It would take dozens of dives to empty the chests into bags. We don't have enough grenades, or the supplies aboard to make any more."

"Why don't you just bring up enough to pay Juan to get the Pearl out of here?" She knew the answer as soon as she voiced the question.

He laughed. "I'm a pirate, love! Do you really think I'd pay 'Meester Pardahl'..." The mention of Juan made Elizabeth twitch involuntarily. "...and leave the rest of it down there? There's enough treasure in that galleon to make us all very rich. It's the prize I've dreamed of since I first turned pirate. I want to take as much of it as we can get out of that ship."

"I suppose that was a silly question. Where did you learn to hold your breath for so long?" Elizabeth knew they had little time, but she wanted to know.

"I spent some time on a pearl diving ship," was all he said. "Now, the most important thing to remember is to stay relaxed and calm, no matter what happens. The faster your heart beats, the faster you will run out of air. Have you ever meditated?"

Elizabeth looked at him blankly.

"Oh. Meditation….it's like sleeping when you're awake. It's a way to make your body relax whenever you need it to. You can slow down your heart and breathing." He smiled a small, knowing smile. "Before you ask, I learned it from a guru in India."

Elizabeth nodded. She hoped there would be more time for background questions later. He'd been to so many places; she wanted to hear about them all.

"If you relax your body until your heart is beating slowly, you don't need as much air when you dive."

"If you're almost asleep, how can you swim?"

"When you're ready, you take one deep breath, hold it and dive. You'll be holding a weight to pull you to the bottom. It saves your strength not havin' to swim all the way down. When you're down there, you move slow and don't make any sudden moves that'll use up your air too fast."

Elizabeth nodded again. So far it didn't sound too hard.

"Soon as you take that deep breath, you'll push your tongue hard against the roof of your mouth and your front teeth while you puff out your cheeks at the same time, like so."

He demonstrated by opening his mouth and showing her how to position her tongue, then he shut his mouth and puffed out his cheeks. The action temporarily gave him the appearance of having horrible jowls, and his lips were pursed and pinched as if he had just bitten something sour. He looked ridiculous and Elizabeth couldn't quite stifle a giggle. Jack did not smile back.

"This is serious business. You do it now." Elizabeth did so, and felt pressure inside her ears.

"Feel that? You have to do that so your eardrums don't burst. You'll need to hold it that way until you surface.."

"So I'm to stay asleep, hold my breath and make a bad face while I dive?"

Jack smiled and pointed at her. "That's it! You are a quick study!"

She frowned. "But there's still the question of how to sleep while I'm awake. I'm not clear on that point."

Jack paused. His darting eyes and upraised index finger indicated that he was seeking the right words. "Have you ever heard of someone being put into a trance to cure an illness?"

Elizabeth nodded, unsure what that had to do with sleep-diving. "I've also seen it done by a fakir at a fair. He told people to do ridiculous things after they were put into a trance, and they did them."

"That's rubbish. Even in a trance, people won't do anything they would not do at any other time. They're still in control of their actions. If you saw supposedly entranced people walking like chickens or some such nonsense, that was just an act." He let that sink in for a moment, then went on.

"In Greece, the word for it is _ypnos, _which means sleep, but it's a sort of guided sleep. It's similar to meditation. But someone else talks you through the meditation and into the trance instead of you doing it for yourself."

He paused for a moment and looked directly into her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

The question caught her totally off-guard. "What?"

"I asked you if you trust me. If you don't, this won't work."

"What won't work?"

"I think I can guide you into the _ypnos_, the trance, so you can dive. But you have to trust me or you won't be able to relax. Do you trust me?"

Elizabeth didn't know how to answer him. She wanted to trust him implicitly. But he had made it clear more than once that he didn't want her aboard, and that had hurt her deeply. Jack saw the indecision in her eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was low. "Lizzie, I think I can guess what you're thinkin' about. You have to put that aside for now. That can't be part of this. Not now, Lizzie." Her heart jumped, and immediately sank. He hadn't called her by that name in months, and he had followed it by telling her to forget about him again.

He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "I'm your captain. You're part of my crew, and you are extremely valuable to this mission. And this mission is extremely important to me and to the Pearl. Because you are part of the crew of the Pearl, and because the Pearl is taking you home, this should be important to you too."

He gently grasped her upper arms and looked into her eyes. "I won't lie, Lizzie, this is risky. I wouldn't ask you to do it if any of those bilge rats could swim. But you're the only one aboard who can. I can't do this without you. I want you to…no, I _need_ you to put your faith in me. You have to believe with complete certainty that I won't let anything happen to you in this lake. Can you do that?"

Elizabeth paused for a few moments, considering his words. _He needs me for this. He won't let anything happen to me, at least not until this is over. _She slowly nodded her head.

Jack smiled at her. "Good. We'll need to practice the _ypnos_ before we get into the lake. I'll be right back." He left her standing near the stairs and hurried to the fore deck where the crew was preparing the equipment for the underwater piracy.


	32. Chapter 32 Safe Places

_**CH 32 Safe Places**_

Jack spoke to Mister Gibbs for a few minutes. Elizabeth saw Jack point at her and then gesture to Gibbs as if he was pushing the older man away. Gibbs nodded, and Jack hurried back to Elizabeth.

"I've told Gibbs to make sure we aren't disturbed." He led her up on the quarterdeck to the very stern of the ship.

"It's quiet up here. 's a good place to try this. Sit down on the deck, here." Jack plunked himself down cross-legged and patted the deck in front of him. Elizabeth seated herself similarly, facing Jack with her bare feet tucked under her crossed legs.

"The first thing you need to do is to think of something that will make you feel completely safe."

"Whatever should I think of?" Elizabeth asked, perplexed.

"'s up to you. It can be anything, but whatever it is, it has to make you feel like nothing can hurt you. Now think of something, and tell me when you've got it." He watched her, waiting for her answer.

Elizabeth squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. She turned her eyes to avoid looking at him, and tried to think of something that made her feel safe. The first thing that came to mind was her sword. She pictured herself holding the Damascus steel sword, poised for a fight. It was a pleasing image, but it didn't make her feel like nothing could hurt her.

She blinked in surprise as another image came unbidden to her mind. It was like a vividly realistic painting. She was holding the sword, frozen in a defensive stance. But there was another figure behind her. His black hair was tied back in a queue and his dark eyes dared any enemy to come closer. His smoky gray wings curved protectively, guarding her yet leaving her free to fight. A powerful feeling of security and comfort washed over her. Elizabeth took a deep breath. Eyes wide, she looked at Jack and nodded. "I've got it."

"That was fast! Remember that scene, that feeling. We'll call that your anchor. That's what you reach for in your mind when you need to calm yourself. Now sit back against the transom. Close your eyes and think of your anchor."

Elizabeth scooted back a little until she could lean on the wall that supported the large oil lamps at the top of the ship's stern. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on every detail of that mental picture. She let herself float away on the calm that swept through her. She felt herself sigh, and her shoulders relaxed. Jack leaned forward and began to speak in a calm, quiet voice. He paused for several seconds between sentences.

"Listen to your heartbeat...feel yourself breathing…you are safe, always safe… You have nothing to fear… You feel your arms and legs getting heavier…You feel your heartbeat slowing…Your breathing is slowing….Think of your anchor…you are safe…You have no fear…You breath is slow and shallow… You are aware of everything around you, but you are not concerned…You have no fear…The only voice that matters is mine, and the only thing that matters is your anchor… Now rest, and listen for my voice."

Jack sat back and watched her. A casual observer might have believed that Elizabeth was sound asleep. But her head was upright instead of lolled over onto a shoulder or drooped onto her chest. Her breathing was so slow and shallow that the movement of her chest rising and falling was barely visible. Jack waited a few minutes. As he watched her, his lips moved but he made no sound.

Someone down on the deck dropped a chain shot down the fo'c's'le steps. The two cannonballs and the length of heavy chain connecting them thumped and clanged all the way down the steps and crashed onto the deck. Several men shouted. Elizabeth did not jerk or startle. She didn't appear to notice the commotion at all.

Jack smiled at her lack of response. He leaned forward and spoke quietly again. "You feel yourself becoming lighter and lighter…you are becoming more aware of what is happening around you… your heart and breathing return to normal…You are safe…open your eyes."

Elizabeth's eyelids opened. She blinked at the sunlight.

"How do you feel?" Jack asked. He looked pleased.

"I feel wonderful, like I just awakened from a full day and night's sleep!"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"Yes, every word of it."

"Did you hear any shouting, or other noises?"

"No…" She looked puzzled.

"Good! It worked! You were breathing about five times a minute, love. Try doing that while you're awake. With a little more practice, I think you'll be able to dive!" He glanced over at the activity down on the deck.

"I'll talk you into the ypnos while we're on the ladders. I'll tell you when to hold your breath and when to dive. You'll remain fully aware of your surroundings so you can work."

He looked over at the deck again.

"I don't expect you to stay down as long as I can. Don't try to stay down too long. Always go up before you become too short of breath. When you break the surface you'll wake up."

Jack got up and went to the binnacle box, a cupboard where the navigation instruments were stored near the helm He resumed his seat before her and held up a miniature hourglass. "This marks one minute. Now let's do it again, and this time let's see how long you can hold your breath."


	33. Chapter 33 The Pearl's Divers

_**CH 33 The Pearl's Divers**_

"A minute is fine! That's better than you did the first time! Do _not_ try to force yourself to do more than you're ready for!" Elizabeth shook her head. She wanted to do better.

As they returned to the forward deck, Jack handed Elizabeth a piece of leather thong from his pocket. "Tie your hair back. It will catch on things down there." She did as he asked. He took out another piece of leather and tied it around his braids and locks. The sight of him with his hair in a queue made Elizabeth catch her breath.

The crew had been busy rigging up all the things Jack had ordered. A net lined with a blanket hung over the rail, suspended from a set of pulleys on a rotating boom arm. The rope on the net was attached to the capstan, the large spool that the crew used to hoist the heaviest sails or raise and lower the anchor. There was something heavy in the net. Elizabeth guessed from the shape that it might be a cannonball. Of course; the net wouldn't sink properly with a blanket in it without added weight.

Two neatly coiled ropes lay on the deck, each attached to a heavy chain shot. A rope and wood rung ladder hung over the rail next to the hull ladder Jack had used. The watch bell hung from the rail, with a long rope in place of the short braided lanyard that was normally used to ring it. The bell rope led down into the lake and back up to the side of the net where it was tied. Everything was ready. All that was missing were the divers.

"Ready to get rich?" Jack looked at Elizabeth and flashed a quick golden grin.

"Aye, Captain!" Elizabeth smiled back, but the smile was forced and looked a little queasy. She thought about the image that had made her feel so secure up on the quarterdeck. As she focused on picturing it clearly, she felt the tension drain away.

"When we get down there, I'll fill bags inside the ship and hand them out to you to put into the net. That'll be fastest."

Jack turned to the crew. As he mentioned names, he pointed to each man in turn.

"You all have jobs to do. Moore, on my signal, put a grenade in the same spot you put the last one. Tobias and Jacob, hang the weights over the rail so's we can reach them. On my mark of 'weights', let go. Cotton, release the net on that same mark. Gibbs, you're in charge in my absence. And Gibbs--" Jack tossed him the minute glass. "—time us."

Jack looked around at his men. "The rest of you, man the capstan and be at the ready. If the bell rings, just start pulling. That means we're in trouble. And be quiet until we're in the water!"

Jack turned to Elizabeth. "Climb down to the bottom rung and turn out so you can dive. Picture your anchor."

Elizabeth went over the rail and down the solid ladder that was part of the Pearl's construction. She was very careful not to slip off as she awkwardly turned around to put her back to the hull. Jack went down the rope ladder and stopped next to her.

He spoke very quietly, so only she could hear him. "Alright love, this is it. Shut your eyes and hold onto that anchor as tight as you can." Elizabeth pictured the dark angel standing behind her. She smiled slightly and closed her eyes.

"You have nothing to fear. You are safe, nothing can hurt you. Your heart is slowing. Nothing matters but my voice and your anchor…"

Elizabeth felt as if she was no longer controlling her own body. She could not feel herself breathe or hear her heartbeat. All she could hear was Jack's voice. She had the dark angel behind her and Jack next to her. She had nothing to fear.

"Open your eyes and take the weight in both hands." She looked for the weight and grasped it firmly.

"Breathe slowly five times on my count. On the fifth count, take the deepest breath you can, hold it and listen for me. When I say 'dive', make a bad face before you jump. One….."

Elizabeth listened to the count and breathed in and out in time with it. On four, Jack said "Grenade, now!" and a splash sounded from somewhere. On five she inhaled deeply and stopped. She heard "Lizzie, dive!" and "Weights!" right after it. She puffed her cheeks, pressed her tongue upward and dove off the ladder with the weight in her hands.

* * *

The weights pulled her rapidly to the bottom of the lake. Even though the water was clear, the sunlight did not penetrate completely to the bottom. Though it was dim Elizabeth could still make out the large hull of the galleon and the rope on the weight that had pulled her down to the ship.

The galleon listed over to her starboard side. Her yards were squared, and shreds of sail canvas still hung from them, waving in the slight currents. Her port yards projected up at an angle into the lake. That was what had caused the loud scraping sound when the Pearl halted. One of the galleon's yards was jammed in the gap between the Pearl's rudder and her hull.

The blanket-lined net had fallen to the bottom. It lay slumped on the mud and weeds right next to the ship. Elizabeth wrapped the weight rope around her forearm to use it as ballast to keep her near the lake bottom. She slowly moved to spread out the net. Jack had released his weights and gone directly inside the ship as soon as he reached the lake bed.

She caught a glimpse of movement next to her and turned toward it. A bag was waving out of a gun port. It was full. She took the bag and put it on the net. Another bag appeared shortly. As she put the bag into the net, she felt the first slight tightness in her chest. She released the weight rope and kicked toward the light far above her.

Elizabeth gratefully gulped in the sweet fresh air when she reached the surface. Her muscles felt heavy, and at first it was difficult to get onto the ladder. When she was finally free of the lake her legs could barely support her. She breathed deeply several times and focused on trying to slow her pounding heart. Suddenly she felt a rush of energy flow through her body and a wave of euphoria swept over her. She fairly flew up the ladder and onto the deck, laughing wildly.

The pirates weren't expecting this sort of reaction. No one said a word. Elizabeth skipped over to Gibbs and chirped "How long was I down there?"

Gibbs just stared at her for a moment before replying, "A minute and a half, Miss Elizabeth!"

Jack broke the surface a moment later and hauled himself up onto the ladder. When he had recovered enough to climb, he joined Elizabeth on the deck.

"Why didn't you tell me it would feel so good afterward?" Elizabeth demanded.

Jack said simply "It's not like that for everybody." He looked at her and frowned. "You stayed down longer than I expected. Don't try to stay down any longer than that!" He saw the brief disappointment that shadowed her face for an instant at his rebuke. "But you did well for a first dive. How soon before you'll be ready to try again?"

"I'm ready right now!" Elizabeth bounced on her toes in anticipation

"Right then, calm yourself and get back on the ladder." He turned to the crew. "Haul up the weights for another dive.

They climbed down the ladders and prepared to dive again. Jack took longer to talk Elizabeth into the calm, safe state this time. She focused on her anchor, her angel, and let herself be lulled to near sleep by Jack's voice. She was a little surprised to find herself being pulled down by the weight, cheeks inflated and tongue pressed tight to her soft palate. She became instantly aware of everything around her, and set to work helping Jack. They put two more heavy bags into the net before Elizabeth gestured that she needed to breathe. Jack sent her up and followed her shortly. The exhilaration her body felt at breathing after being deprived of air spread through her again. _This feels better than any strong drink ever could!_, she thought giddily.

After a brief rest, they dove a third time. Elizabeth felt that it was getting easier to dive each time. Jack filled a bag and passed it to her through the gun port. .A few seconds later his hands, holding many small objects, poked out of the gun port. He had run out of bags. Elizabeth opened one of her bags, and he dumped the treasure into it. Over and over he tossed things into the bag, until Elizabeth started to feel pressure in her chest. She pointed upward and dropped her burden into the net. Once more Elizabeth felt the wonderful euphoria rush through her when fresh oxygen flowed into her blood. Jack came up a few seconds behind her.

After they had clambered back onto the deck, Jack ordered the men to raise the net. The pirates braced themselves against the spokes of the capstan and began turning it. The rope began to wind around the large spool. When the net finally broke the surface the men all cheered. They swung the boom around over the deck and lowered the net.

Jack stepped up and opened it. Inside were six small bulging sacks, and a massive solid gold crucifix.


	34. Chapter 34 Going For The Gold

_**CH 34 Going for the Gold**_

"Gibbs, how long were we down this time?"

"Miss Eliz was down just shy of two minutes, Cap'n. You were a little over two, I think."

Jack raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth, who was still enjoying the post-dive euphoria. "Let's go again!" she said and headed to the ladder. Jack caught her arm.

"We need to rest before this next dive. We'll both need to go inside the ship. Some of the things in there won't fit through a gun port. It'll take both of us to move them. Just be ready for anything."

He turned to Mister Gibbs. "Gibbs, fetch some crates and locks, and lock up those bags!"

Jack pulled Elizabeth out of the way, and they sat down on the deck, not talking. Elizabeth noticed that Jack kept putting his fingers to his wrist or his throat, but he did not explain his actions. Finally he said, "Ready?" She nodded, and they prepared for the fourth dive.

Once again Elizabeth was a little surprised to find herself on the way down to the galleon. The net was on the lake bottom again, and she spread it open before turning to Jack. He beckoned for her to follow him as he swam up to the deck and down through a hatch to the hold.

It was much darker in the hold of the ship. Faint rays of greenish light swirled in through the gun ports and holes where deck boards had rotted away, but most of the hold was in shadows. As she swam away from the hatch she saw something light colored. She turned to get a closer look. It was a pile of skeletons, all lying in a pile where the tilted deck and the starboard hull met. She jerked back reflexively. In her mind she heard Jack speak the word 'anchor', and the image of the angel standing defensively behind her obscured the skeletons before her. She instantly calmed and looked around for Jack.

He was on the other side of the hatch ladder, hovering over a small chest. He motioned for her to take one handle. When she tried to lift, it was extremely heavy. Jack took the other handle, and they slowly maneuvered the chest up the ladder, out of the hold and onto the net. By the time it was in position, Elizabeth was desperate for air. She pushed off from the muddy bottom and kicked to the surface as fast as she could. She began coughing and gasping as soon as her head emerged from the water.

Jack surfaced behind her, and helped her grab the rope ladder. "You stayed down too long!" he whispered. "Not good!"

It took much longer for Elizabeth to climb the ladder to the deck, and there was no euphoria after this dive. Jack followed behind her to make sure she did not fall off the ladder. By the time they reached the deck, the piranhas were already greedily shredding their deceased fellows at the far edges of the circle caused by the grenade's explosion.

Jack sat Elizabeth down on the deck a little way from the crew. He spoke to her quietly. "Have you got one more dive in you? I saw another chest down there. If it's holding what I expect, that'll put us in a very pretty position. There's more but the rest can wait until later."

Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. "You mean we're staying in this lake until we get it all?"

Jack laughed. "No, love! Nobody else knows this is here. I doubt most of this lot of misfits could even find their way back to South America, never mind them finding the right spot in an inland lake. It's safe right where it is. I can come back to Panama and get it whenever I want to!"

Elizabeth felt her heart sink at his use of the word 'I'. She chewed on her lower lip to distract herself.

"But how will _you_ find it again?"

Jack tapped his head. "Once I've been somewhere I can _always_ find it again!"

* * *

Elizabeth agreed to one more dive. They rested until Jack was certain that her breathing was even and normal again. He prepared her for the fifth dive, and soon they were in the hold of the galleon once more. They had to go farther into the ship to get to their prize. It was nearly pitch black inside. The tilt of the decks was disorienting. Elizabeth wondered how Jack had found anything in the darkness. Jack took her hand and led her to the chest he had seen earlier. Together, they slowly moved it out to join its mate in the net. Elizabeth's lungs felt like they were on fire. She needed to surface immediately.

As they placed the chest in the net, Elizabeth saw movement in the water. She turned and saw a large shape swim behind the bow of the galleon. She tugged on Jack's arm and pointed. The shape came back into view. It was a huge crocodile and it was headed straight toward them.

Jack pulled Elizabeth into the center of the net with him, and grabbed for the bell rope. He yanked it wildly.

Up on the Pearl, the watch bell began pealing. Gibbs shouted "They're in trouble! Heave to, men! Pull like yer pullin' up a net full of gold! Oh, right… Just pull!!"

The men put their backs into turning the capstan as fast as it could rotate.

The crocodile undulated rapidly toward the divers. Jack put himself between Elizabeth and the beast, and pulled out his knife. The croc grabbed for him. Jack twisted out of its reach. He made one desperate stab as the crocodile passed by him. Blood spread through the green water. Jack lunged back into the net as it began to close.

As the rising net quickly constricted around them, it propelled Jack roughly into Elizabeth. His knee drove sharply into her stomach. The impact forced the last remaining air out of her lungs in a rush of bubbles.

Elizabeth panicked. She forgot all about staying calm. Base instinct drove her body to seek air. Hands closed around her face, clamping her nose and mouth shut before she could inhale water. She fought to free herself. Jack held her head still and forced her to look at him. He shook his head and mouthed the words 'trust me'. He moved his hands so his thumbs pinched her nostrils, and put his mouth over hers. His tongue parted her lips and he exhaled into her mouth.

Elizabeth felt the air and sucked it greedily into her burning lungs. Jack stopped her from taking all he had, but he held his mouth over hers. They inhaled and exhaled gently into each other's mouths, sharing Jack's breath.

* * *

The net seemed to take an eternity to reach the surface, but mere seconds to clear the water and swing over the deck. Jack barely had time to release Elizabeth's face and pull away before the net was dropped roughly onto the deck.

Elizabeth still couldn't breathe. She opened her eyes to find Jack lying on top of her, with her legs in an undignified position around his waist. "Get off!" she gasped.

Jack rasped, "I'd love nothing more, but the whole crew is watching!" He looked exhausted, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Elizabeth pushed against his chest with both hands and wheezed "…crushing me! … can't breathe!"

"Oh! Not good!" He rolled over, and lay on his back on the deck, eyes closed. Elizabeth sat up, coughing and gagging. It took her several minutes to breathe normally again. She was surprised to be alive. Turning to Jack, she opened her mouth to thank him, but the words didn't come. _He didn't have to save me. He could have taken his revenge for…what I did…But instead…_ She was too confused to even follow her own thoughts. She looked away for a moment, then back at Jack. Something about him looked wrong.

"Jack, you've got algae in your beard. " She reached out to remove it. Jack shouted and sat up, pulling away from her hand.

"Ouch! Bugger, what did you do?"

"I just tried to wipe some slime off your face."

Jack felt his chin. "That's not slime, Lizzie, that's a leech. And you've got one too, right on your neck."

He looked closer. "No, you've got two on your neck. And one on your cheek. Oh, there's another one…. Lizzie, stand up."

Elizabeth got unsteadily to her feet, and looked down at herself. She was nearly covered with dark green, slimy leeches. There were leeches of every size on every visible area of her skin. There were so many attached to her that in some places she appeared to have wet, green scales. A large number of leeches had crawled through her threadbare clothing and attached to her flesh underneath. Those were apparent as many small lumps where her wet clothes clung to her limbs. Still more had simply bitten her right through the clothing and hung on the outside of it. Her face was nearly clear, but the rest of her was covered in them.

Jack stood up. He had at least as many leeches stuck to him as she did. He looked at himself and then at Elizabeth. "We look like refugees from the Dutchman!"

Elizabeth shuddered in disgust. She gingerly touched a lump on her forearm. "It's inside my shirt! Where did we get these? How did they get into my clothes? Why can't I feel them biting me?"

"They must've been in the darkest part of the hold. Sneaky little buggers numb where they bite," Jack replied. "It doesn't hurt unless you rub them or tug on them. And they can stretch themselves so thin they can crawl between threads."

"How can we get them off?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Burn'em off. Touch'em with the slow match and they let go. Then it's just a matter of stopping off the bleeding from the bite." Jack turned to Gibbs.

"Mister Gibbs, see to it that all of this—", he waved a leech-coated hand toward the chests and bags on the deck, "—is placed in the crates and put those under lock and key until such time as WE can inventory it together.

The rest of you watch for that bloody crocodile to come up. If you see it, shoot it and bring it aboard. They're excellent roasted. That one certainly deserves it."

Many of the pirates crowded happily toward the rail, pulling out their pistols. Finally, something they could shoot!

"You," Jack turned back to Elizabeth, "come with me. Those have to come off before you lose too much blood." He picked up the linstock and unscrewed the long handle so he held just the curved metal portion that contained the smoldering, sparking hemp.

"Where are we going?"

"To my cabin."

Elizabeth froze. "But…I can't…,"she said quietly.

:"Why not?"

She motioned for him to follow her across the deck away from the men. She could feel her face burning hot and knew she was blushing furiously. She stared at her feet as she spoke. "Jack, it would compromise my honor to go into your cabin alone with you."

Jack snorted impatiently. "Lizzie, not to put too fine a point on it, but you haven't got too many choices. You can't keep those bloodsuckers on you until we can get back on land and find a woman to remove them. There's too many on you right now. They'll let go sooner or later, but you'd lose a lot of blood before then, maybe too much."

He looked over his shoulder at the pirates gleefully shooting into the lake.

"Cotton and Gibbs take turns acting as ships' doctor. The galley doubles as a hospital. Would you rather have one of them remove a hundred leeches from you in the galley with all the rest of that lot lookin' on?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the pirates.

"Or would you prefer to have me remove them in more private surroundings?" He reached for her chin and tipped her face up with a finger so she had to look at him. He was smiling.

"Or you can opt to preserve your honor, keep your lovely leeches and risk your life. You choose, but do it soon."

Elizabeth had not actually cried since the day Will had left her on the dock in Singapore. But she nearly broke down in front of Jack. She knew which uncomfortable and improper choice she had to make. She slowly followed him to his cabin, shuffling as if she was being led to the gallows.

She tried to visualize the painting-like image of the angel standing behind her, hoping for some sense of safety to reassure her. Her sense of impending doom lifted only the tiniest bit when the image came to her. The angel was still there, poised for battle just as he had been before. But this time he was laughing from behind her shoulder.


	35. Chapter 35 Honor and Red Velvet

_**CH 35 Honor and Red Velvet **_

Jack opened his cabin door and stepped aside to allow Elizabeth to enter first. She was surprised by the polite gesture, but the hoots and catcalls that came from the crew behind them drove all thought of it instantly from her mind. Elizabeth winced at their words, and in doing so missed the rude gesture Jack made to them before he closed the door.

She hadn't been in that cabin since the night Barbossa's undead crew had first brought her aboard the Black Pearl. She remembered the heavy velvet dress she had been forced to wear to dine with the accursed Captain. The dress had smelled like perfume. She had wondered who had worn the dress before her, and whether that woman had survived her encounter with the undead pirates. The memories of that night still haunted her. Entering the cabin brought them all back, and she shivered.

Jack saw the shiver. "What is it?"

"The last time I was in here, Barbossa was planning to kill me to break the curse. It just brought back bad memories." _And I won't be taking away any better ones _she added silently.

Jack motioned toward the rear of the cabin with the linstock. "Go back by the windows where there's more light." Elizabeth shuffled past more red velvet, this time the curtains that closed off the small bedchamber from the large main cabin. She had been in that bedchamber once. She had donned the red dress in the dark in that room before she joined Barbossa at the table on that awful night.

Tall arched windows stretched across the upper half of the cabin's stern wall and around the corners onto the port and starboard sides. Elizabeth moved toward the corner at a snail's pace. .Jack followed her, watching her curiously. She stopped in front of the windows and shut her eyes. "Well? Get it over with!" she said in a weak voice.

"Alright…hold still so I don't hurt you." Elizabeth couldn't help wincing. _Will it hurt much?_

She felt his hand close around her chin, and he turned her head to one side. She heard a brief sizzling sound and the sound of something wet hitting the floor. She opened one eye. Jack was holding the linstock. He put the end of the smoldering slow match against a leech that was clinging to her jaw. The leech writhed before letting go. It plopped to the deck next to the other one. A huge pent-up sigh of relief came out before Elizabeth could stifle it.

"What was that for?" Jack asked, still touching the slow match to the leeches on her face. She did not reply. He stopped burning leeches and looked at her. "Well? What were you expecting?"

Elizabeth felt her face go red. "The worst," she said simply.

"The worst what? Oh. OH!" He stepped back, scowling. "Just because I brought you in here to do this you assume that I am going to have my way with you? Is that it?"

Elizabeth could only nod mutely. Jack looked very angry.

"I suppose I could accommodate you, if that's what you expect."

"No! Please! No!" Elizabeth squeaked out the words in a panic.

"I am a pirate. But that does not mean I indulge in _all_ of the pursuits in which pirates are reputed to partake. Unlike most of the louse-ridden scum out there," he gestured toward the bow of the ship, "I prefer my female companions to be willing participants in activities of that nature. I'm not going to force you into my bed just because we are alone in my cabin. Savvy?"

Elizabeth nodded, but the worried expression on her face did not change. She waved a hand toward the cabin door and managed to choke out "But they'll still think you did," before her voice cracked.

"What does that matter? Why do you care what any of that wretched lot thinks?"

"They're the only people who know me who don't already believe that I'm a pirate's…whore. But after this they'll think that too. All a woman has that is truly hers is her honor, and by coming in here with you, that's been taken from me just as surely as if you did bed me."

"So do you think I should just because they'll think I already did?" Jack looked amused at the idea.

"NO! Of course not! But they'll assume you did anyway. I'm ruined, that's all there is to it!"

"You haven't ever…"Jack waved his free hand in the air, seeking a word that evaded him. "…actually…" The hand waved again. "…um, have you?"

"I most certainly have not!" she replied sharply.

"Then you are not 'ruined', as you insist on referring to it. You yourself know for a fact that your, um, honor, is, um, unsomethinged. That's all that matters! Why do you worry about what other people think?"

"You took offense when I thought you were going to…. Would you be angry if all women assumed you were going to accost them? Would it bother you to hear yourself accused of rape?"

"Yes, of course! I may be a pirate, but I won't stoop that low."

"There! Now you can see my predicament! I'm being accused of something I would never do. Everyone in Port Royal assumed I was ruined when I came back after being taken by Barbossa. When I leave this cabin, the men out there will also assume that I'm something I'm not. That is going to affect my life and I don't expect it to be for the better."

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment. "Let's get on with removing these leeches and we'll board that ship later." He returned to singeing the leeches off of Elizabeth's face and the top of her head.

"Look up," he instructed. She raised her chin and he removed the slimy creatures from her neck. She caught him looking down at her through half-closed eyes as he worked. His expression reminded her of a well-fed cat sunning itself.

* * *

Many leeches later, her hands were clear but covered with her blood. All the leeches that were visible on the sleeves of Elizabeth's shirt and on her trousers lay on the floor. The cabin stunk of smoldering hemp and saltpeter, and burned fish.

"Take off your vest, love, so I can get the ones under it."

Elizabeth unbuttoned the vest and looked down. Her white shirt was still wet, and it was almost transparent. She closed the vest quickly. "No."

"No? Why not?"

"White shirt. Wet." was all she said.

Fortunately, Jack understood. "Hold the vest over yourself then. All the beasties on the outside have to come off before we can get to the ones under the clothes."

Elizabeth felt her blood suddenly go cold. "Under the clothes…I can't…."

His voice was calm, almost soothing. "We'll cross that ocean when we come to it, love. Now move the vest."

She removed her vest and held it across her chest. Jack burned more leeches off her back. He removed the leather thong from her hair and brushed her hair out of the way so he could clear the back of her neck.

"I think that's all on your back. You can do your own front." He handed her the linstock.

"Don't look," she insisted.

"Yes, ma'am," Jack smirked, and turned his back on her. She worked as quickly as she could. Smoking leeches rained to the floor all around her feet. When she was finished, she whipped the vest on and buttoned it up.

"Captain?" Jack didn't respond. "Captain?"

"Huh? What? Sorry love, I was meditating."

"I'm finished. Your turn now."

They picked up the leeches from the floor and tossed them into a bucket. Elizabeth wiped her slimy, bloody hands on her trousers. Then Jack turned his back to her. "Get'em off my back, Lizzie. The ones I laid on are startin' to itch!"

Elizabeth worked quickly. When she got to Jack's rump, she was uncomfortable putting her hand so close to him. _This is a medical procedure. Stop your fretting, ._she reminded herself.

When she had completed clearing his back, she began moving his corded hair to get to the back of his neck. She was surprised at how heavy the braids felt when she lifted them.

"Your hair is so weighty. Doesn't it cause you headaches?" she asked as she parted the cords to get to a leech.

"It's only heavy when it's wet. When it's dry it doesn't weigh any more than anyone else's hair."

"Oh. I wouldn't have guessed. Untie your queue, take off the scarf and bend down so I can see your scalp."

"Yes, Doctor Swann!" Jack chuckled, and did as he was ordered.

Elizabeth found several more leeches in his hair. She also found that Jack looked quite different without the scarf, even wilder than he did normally. She couldn't decide whether she liked his hair better tied back or not.

"There, I think I got them all, "she said as she handed the linstock back to Jack.

He took it and began burning the leeches that were clinging to him through his shirt. Elizabeth turned her back to give him privacy. She heard many sizzling and wet plopping sounds. Finally Jack announced "All done! Now we have to cross that ocean…."

Elizabeth gulped. "I won't disrobe in front of you. I….can't."

"No worries, love. Go in there," he pointed to the bedchamber. "Take off what you need to, and get the leeches off everything you can reach by yourself. Whatever's left undone we'll worry about then. Try not to drop'em in my bed."

He gave her a very gentle shove in the direction of the bedchamber. "But hurry up! I can't sit down until these things are off my bum!"

* * *

As Elizabeth crossed the cabin, she took a better look around. The captain's main cabin was a lot larger than she had remembered. The large round table dominated the room, but other furniture included a globe and a writing desk. The walls that were not taken up by the tall windows contained several ornately carved mahogany cupboards and wall panels. A cabinet with a leaded glass door caught Elizabeth's eye and held it. The cabinet was full of books. _Oh, how I'd love to see what he likes to read!_

She walked by the aft mast where it passed through the cabin from the quarterdeck above to its footing on the keel far below. She noticed an iron ladder next to the mast. It spanned from the deck to a hatch in the ceiling. Of course, it made sense for the captain to be able to get directly to the helm from his cabin. But she had never noticed the hatch on the quarterdeck before. She had also never realized that the cabin housed two cannons_. I've been on this ship for months and I never knew any of this was here._

She parted the red curtains and entered the bed chamber. The room was small, and had one shuttered window that faced the main deck, and another that opened to port. Tiny glints of sunlight leaked in around the hinges of the shutters, partially illuminating the room. _All this time I've been sleeping right outside his bedroom. No wonder he heard me when Fletcher…_she shivered again.

She looked around. The room was very spare in comparison with the more elaborate main cabin. In the corner where the fore and port bulkheads met was a simple wood frame bed. The only other furniture in the room was an armoire, and a sea chest with a small wooden box on top of it. Another trunk was partly visible under the bed. A candle lamp on a sconce hung on one wall.

The bed coverlet appeared to be made of the red velvet curtains that had formerly graced the cabin's windows. _Waste nothing..._ A single flattened pillow sat on the bed, propped against the wall. She was surprised to see that the bed was neatly made up, the coverlet smooth and straight upon it_. I would never have expected that any pirate would bother to make up his bed! _

She made sure the curtains were firmly closed and the shutters were tightly latched before she removed her clothing. She started burning the leeches. Every time she heard a noise she glanced nervously at the curtains, expecting them to open at any second. They never moved. When she was through, the floor was littered with leech bodies. She stretched, and contorted, and reached, and burned herself a few times before she determined that she could not remove all of them all by herself. She could not see to clear her shoulders, her back, her upper thighs ….and that troublesome part that connected her legs and her lower back. She called out, "Don't you have a mirror?"

"There's a scrap in the box on the chest."

She opened the box. Inside it was a piece of a broken mirror and a small pot of the black powdered kohl that Jack wore around his eyes. He was right; the mirror was tiny. It was half the size of Elizabeth's palm. It did not help her see behind herself at all. She sighed and replaced the mirror in the box. She put her clothes back on and stepped through the velvet curtains. _Ruination, here I come…_

* * *

A/N: With the exception of a few minor decorative embellishments of my own and the few details that were visible in the movies, most of my description of Jack's cabin comes directly from a cutaway illustration of the Black Pearl in the book "Pirates of the Caribbean" The Complete Visual Guide", by Richard Platt and Glenn Dakin. Publisher: Discovery Books, ISBN 978-0-7566-2676-1. 


	36. Chapter 36 Embers and Ink

_**CH 36 Embers and Ink**_

She returned to the main cabin, where she found Jack facing the tall stern windows staring out at the lake. He turned around as she approached.

"Took you long enough!" he joked. He took the linstock from her and retreated to his bedchamber. "Lizzie! You could've at least cleaned up the floor!"

"Oh! I'm sorry! It slipped my mind!"

"You can get'em when we're finished. I'll let you clean up mine too." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh, thank you, Captain, what an honor that will be!" She couldn't keep from smiling too. This was the kind of banter she had missed since Jack had come back from the Locker. Maybe things would go back to the way they used to be. _But he said pirates don't have relationships…_ The smile disappeared.

Jack came out of the bedchamber a while later, wearing only his trousers. Elizabeth felt her face burning and wished she didn't blush so easily. She looked at her feet again.

"Haven't you ever seen a man without his shirt before? It's not unnatural, not even indecent!"

"It's just…it's not proper."

"Maybe where you're from it's not. But when it's sweltering hot it's a wondrous thing to doff my shirt and feel the breeze. You should try it sometime."

"I THINK NOT!"

Jack put up his hands in mock defense. "Joking, Lizzie, just joking!"

She raised her head to look at him, trying hard to stop the inevitable blush. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. His locks and braids slid behind his shoulders, baring his upper chest. That was when she saw it.

A small stylized swan no bigger than a coin, neck arched gracefully, swam forever just below Jack's left collarbone. She only caught a glimpse of the swan before he moved and his hair fell back down over his chest, covering it. _No, no, no...I know I didn't see that when he showed me those musket ball scars on the island. But when--?_

Jack spoke, distracting her from the tattoo. "About that clothing problem…how long is your shirt?"

Elizabeth pointed to the middle of her thigh. "It comes down to about here. Why?"

Jack waved his hands as he spoke. "If you're not any more flexible than me, you're going to need help with the beasties from about here...," he touched her shoulders, "to about there, same as I am." He bent and touched the back of her knee.

She swallowed hard. "Exactly…"

"Simple enough, then! Just pull up the back of your shirt and I'll get the leeches off as much as I can see of your back. Then you let down the shirt, drop your breeches and I'll burn'em off your legs. Your shirt will cover your bum. Voila, your modesty and honor are preserved."

_It matters to him?_ That was the last thing Elizabeth had expected from him.

"Captain…" she began.

"Only on the deck, love. In here, it's just Jack. Don't worry. I'll leave the leeches on your arse."

She looked at him very seriously. "Jack? I haven't had an opportunity to thank you for what you did in the lake. I can never thank you enough for saving my life. I know that I certainly didn't deserve it. You could have let me die to avenge...what I did to you...and you would not have been wrong to do it."

She looked away and swallowed hard, unsure how to continue. She took several deep breaths before starting again. Her eyes met his.

"But you didn't fail me. You upheld the trust you asked of me. You saved me from the crocodile, and you kept me from drowning in that net. Thank you, Jack."

Jack blinked and nodded slightly just once in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He just watched her.

She took another deep breath. "I must ask something important of you. I'm going to go mad thinking where these leeches might be crawling on me. If a physician was removing them I would have to trust him. I need to know that you're not going to do anything…or say anything later…that a physician would not do. May I ask that of you?"

Jack frowned at her. "I've already told you I won't force a woman who's not willing. You're not so I won't, simple as that." His expression relaxed into a smile, and he winked at her. "However, you are welcome to change your mind at any time."

Elizabeth scowled and Jack hurried on before she could interrupt him "No? I thought not. But one won't know if one doesn't ask, or something like that. Anyway, removing two pounds of leeches from a woman, any woman, isn't exactly something I'd brag up to the lads at the pub, savvy? So no worries, love."

He bowed slightly, one hand on his chest. His next words were spoken in an accurate imitation of a stuffy old man's voice. "Doctor Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, Miss! How may I be of assistance?"

Elizabeth's lips curved upward in the barest hint of a smile. Tension prevented her from fully enjoying Jack's humor. "Thank you. I know I can trust you, Jack. Please get all of the leeches off of me." She repeated it for emphasis. "All of them."

She turned her back to him, pulled her shirt up and off over her head, and clutched it tight to her chest.

She heard Jack inhale sharply. He said one word. "Oh."

For a moment he didn't do anything. Then she felt him move her hair aside. Her skin tingled where his fingers had brushed her shoulders. Sizzle, plop. Sizzle, plop. Jack cleared the leeches from her until he got down to the waist of her trousers.

"That's all of'em off of your back.

She pulled her damp shirt over her head and tugged it down. She could feel her heart racing. _This isn't proper. But the leeches have to come off. But he's a pirate. No, he's Jack. This isn't safe. I told him I trusted him. Do I? _

She loosened the buttons on the trousers and let them fall to the floor. As they fell, her blood turned cold again. She felt her chest tightening as fear engulfed her. Immediately the still image of herself and the dark angel who looked like Jack popped into her mind. He was standing behind her. One hand was on his stomach in silent laughter and the other was pointing over her shoulder at something she could not see. She got the distinct impression that he was laughing at…himself?

Behind her, Jack began singeing the leeches off of Elizabeth's thighs. He worked slowly upward until he reached the hem of the shirt. His breathing was shallow. Every so often he stopped working for a minute or two. Finally he completely stopped and remained still.

Elizabeth couldn't tell what he was doing. She couldn't hear him breathing at all. She finally glanced over her shoulder. He was turned away from her with his hands at his sides, head bowed in silent meditation.

Several minutes passed before she heard him turn around. He slowly lifted the hem of her shirt. Elizabeth's blood wasn't cold anymore. She was sweating profusely and her heart was pounding so hard she could feel her heartbeat in her face. She heard the sizzling sound several times, then a pause, then several more times, another pause and one more sizzle and plop.

"That was the last one. Get dressed." He sounded hoarse.

Elizabeth wasted no time yanking up her trousers and buttoning them around the shirt as she tucked it in. She got the vest on and buttoned before she turned around. Jack's back was to her, and he leaned on his elbows against the back of a nearby chair. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his forehead rested on his clasped hands.

The linstock lay on the edge of the table. Elizabeth picked it up, anxious to get it over with but afraid to start. Finally she murmured, "Stand up straighter, Jack. I can't see to reach your shoulders like this."

He stood up straight, close to the chair. His hands rested on its back. He still appeared to be meditating. His eyes were closed. His breathing was very shallow and slow. Elizabeth had to move his hair to get to his bare shoulders. As she touched him, he gasped as if she had startled him. .His back stiffened for a moment before he relaxed again.

Elizabeth examined the scars on his back as she worked. The man's entire back was a slashed and punctured canvas that illustrated the story of his life. Groups of long thin scars crossed his back in every direction. His ribs displayed two short ragged scars that may have been from a blade. He also bore a large bite mark on his side, too big to be from human teeth. There was one round dark scar that looked just like the ones on his chest; the gun shot scars that he had showed her on the island. She wondered if the leech bites would leave scars to add another scene to the canvas.

When his back was clear of the bloodsuckers, she stopped, unsure of what to say. _Do I have to ask him to take off…!_

She searched for words for a long moment before speaking. "I'm finished, Jack."

His voice was raspy. "I'm truly sorry you have to see this, love. The ugliest part of any man is his arse. But I don't want'em crawlin' where the sun doesn't shine either." He reached for his trouser buttons. Elizabeth felt her blood turn to icy slush in her veins. She shut her eyes tightly. The contents of Jack's pockets jangled and clunked noisily as the trousers hit the floor.

Elizabeth forced her reluctant eyes to open. He stood with his back to her, feet together, head lowered, hands on the chair. She immediately forgot about breathing. For just a moment she forgot about everything except the fact that she was alone in a room with a naked man, one to whom she was not married.

Then the momentary dam in her brain burst and a flood of thoughts rushed out at once_. I AM ruined. I shouldn't be seeing this. Get to work, girl! Get it done quickly! Oh my, he is quite wrong…. Leeches, Elizabeth, not lechery. Leeches. I am RUINED!_

She stepped forward and began to burn the leeches. She wanted to work fast, but she found it impossible to be both accurate and quick when her hands were quivering like those of a palsied old lady. She had to grasp the linstock with both hands at once to hold it steady.

After several eternities his legs, as well as the other area that disturbed her so much, were clear. She took a step back, and opened her mouth to tell Jack she was finished. But she saw one more leech. It was… _Oh, no…_

Elizabeth realized she was getting dizzy. She had been holding her breath again. She looked away from Jack, inhaled deeply and waited until her head cleared. _Elizabeth, finish it._

"Jack? You've only got one more. But it's…it's…it's in a bad spot. I don't want to burn you…. Um…"

"Are you trying to ask me to spread'em?"

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "Um…yes," she whispered. _I want to die. Right now._

Jack moved his feet to shoulder width apart and leaned slightly forward over the chair back. "Got a clear shot?" His voice sounded strained.

"Uh…….uh huh."

She moved the linstock hesitantly toward the final leech. She didn't want to ask him to move his legs again. She did _not_ want to see any more than she already had. But there still wasn't quite enough room to get to the leech without burning Jack in a very awkward place. _Oh, no…_

"Hold still, Jack." She put the back of her free hand against his inner thigh to protect it from the sparking hemp as she scorched the leech that was attached high on the opposite inner thigh. The muscles in Jack's legs went from relaxed to taut and tight in an instant. She felt the hemp sear her hand. The leech fell; she jumped backward and yanked her hand away. She dropped the linstock by her feet. Her hand was burned; a round blister was already rising on the palm where the slow match had touched it. She heard Jack inhale hard and curse once.

"Did I burn you?"

"….No. 'm alright."

"I'm finished, Jack."

"Turn around, Lizzie. Look the other way."

Elizabeth did so without hesitation. She faced the tall stern windows and held her face in her hands. She was panting, her heart was racing and her head was spinning. _Don't faint now. Not now. _

She heard the sound of a chair scraping on the floor. "Lizzie, go on. Leave now."

"I still need to clean up the leeches." She turned toward Jack. His trousers were back in place. He had turned the chair around and was leaning heavily on the back of it.

"No! Go. Get out now. Go!" He was flushed and breathing unevenly.

"Jack, are you feeling alright? Did I hurt you? Is there anything I can do?"

"No, no, no, just go. I'm just feeling a mite strained. Long day, tired, headache, all that. And,,,I, ah, need to use the pot. So would you please give me some privacy?"

"Oh! Of course! I'm sorry!" She hurried toward the cabin door. As she neared it, she could hear many voices just outside.

She opened the door and stepped out into the warm orange light of early evening. Several of the pirates had their ears pressed to the window of Jack's bedchamber. They were hushing each other. The rest of the crew stood crowded together nearby, watching them. Elizabeth closed the cabin door. The eavesdroppers fell over each other as they jerked away from the window.


	37. Chapter 37 History Repeats Itself

_**CH 37 History Repeats Itself**_

The jeers and jibes started at once. "Didja like what ya saw in there?" "More to the point, did the Cap'n like what HE saw?" Much raucous laugher followed that question.

Elizabeth's face and ears burned with the intensity of her blush. She could not meet anyone's eyes. Her reaction encouraged them to keep making bawdier comments and more rude innuendos. "Well, _Miss Swann_, was it good for you?" The mob had the door and window of the cabin surrounded in a semi-circle. There was no place for her to go.

Mister Gibbs and Phillip exchanged a glance, and both of them moved to stand between Elizabeth and the rest. They were both surprised when Cotton, with the parrot screaming on his shoulder, stepped up with them. At the same time, Pintel and Ragetti moved backwards out of the crowd and leaned against the rail. They weren't taking sides until they knew who was going to win.

"Leave her alone, boys!" shouted Gibbs. "She's had a rough time of it today. Poor lass nearly drowned. Leave her be!"

A voice shouted "What're you doin', Gibbs? Tryin' to keep her for yourself now that the Cap'n broke her in for ye? Or are you and the other old men gonna share her?" Another voice broke in over the first. "So where's the Cap'n, eh '_Miss Swann'_? " "Yeah, what's the Captain doin' now?"

Elizabeth continued to stare at the deck and murmured, "He said he needed to relieve himself and then he was going to rest."

Most of the crew fell on each other laughing at her reply. "Oh, that's a good'un! Relievin' himself! Didn't ya please him?" The shouting increased. Gibbs and Phillip both shouted back at the crew, but they were out voiced.

Tobias and Jacob stood silently off to one side. Being the youngest members of the crew, they were afraid to take Elizabeth's side for fear of later retribution from the other men. But they both liked Elizabeth. She had always been nice to them, and they knew that this was wrong. They wanted to do something to help her. The brothers nodded at each other and moved up to flank Gibbs, Cotton, and Phillip. The two youngest and the three oldest men on the ship were all that stood between Elizabeth and the mob of taunting pirates.

Elizabeth desperately wanted to get out of sight. She began edging slowly along the cabin wall toward her cubby. Her rescuers guessed her destination. They stood together and made way for her to reach it. She dove through the curtains into the dim light of the alcove under the steps. Gibbs, Phillip, Cotton, Jacob and Tobias all took positions in front of the curtain. The parrot raised its wings, clacked its big beak menacingly and screamed 'Walk the plank!' at the crowd. The mob of pirates laughed, and encouraged each other to shout more lewd insinuations at Elizabeth. Threats were hurled at Gibbs and the others. Violence seemed imminent.

Elizabeth looked down at herself. Even in the fading light of evening, she could see that her clothing was covered with her blood. Every leech bite was still bleeding. Blood trickled from bites on her hands and feet. She had left bloody foot prints on the deck. Her racing heartbeat pounded in every vein in her body. She could not control her quivering hands, and bile rose up in her throat. The whole situation reminded her strongly of Fletcher's attack and the wave of cold fear that swept through her brought tears to her eyes. The shouting on the deck grew louder.

She closed her eyes, and the image of the dark winged angel came without call. He was serious again, and his wings guarded her sides as she held up the sword. She desperately wished she could believe it was true, that he could save her from this. She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her arms. _I am ruined. Now everyone who knows me believes I am a pirate's whore. And people may get hurt because of me, and I can't stop it!_

The cabin door slammed open, and glass shattered.

"Shut yer holes, ya bilge-sucking whoresons! What the bloody hell is this all about?" Jack's furious voice cut through all the other sounds on the deck. Some of the pirates fell silent. Others merely lowered their voices and continued talking amongst themselves.

"I asked a question! I expect an answer!" Jack roared. The rest of the men quieted and looked at each other uncomfortably. No one spoke.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "It seems, Cap'n, that the crew, with the exception of m'self and these four", he gestured toward the men on either side of him, "was takin' an extreme interest in the goings on in yer cabin just now."

Ragetti and Pintel put on their best innocent expressions and held up their hands palms out as they both muttered "I weren't part of it!"

Phillip continued. "And now they want to know if Miss Eliz will kiss and tell tales, so to speak." He glared at the rest of the crew as he spoke. "Since she's all broke in now, as they put it," he growled.

Gibbs scratched his head. "Didn't somethin' sorta like this happen before, Cap'n?"

Jack nodded. "Aye Gibbs, it did. But apparently these pox infested sodomizing maggots have forgotten what happened to their friends Fletcher and Hawkins."

A low murmur spread through the pirates. Several of the pirates near the front backed further into the crowd at mention of those names

Jack spoke again. His commanding voice was clear and level as he began. "Let me make this plain to you lot of filthy scum. Miss Swann entered my cabin a lady, and she left my cabin still a lady! The only thing that she lost today was leeches!"

He took a step forward and the pirates instinctively moved back out of his reach.

"The code still rules on the Pearl. I gave orders regarding Miss Swann's treatment as a member of the crew of this ship once already. Nothing has changed since then. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" By the time he finished speaking, he was shouting.

Some of the men muttered a half-hearted "Aye." Many more didn't say anything.

Jack continued. He was no longer shouting, but anger was still very evident in his voice. "If I hear so much as a rumor that any of you may have given Miss Swann any trouble, even a whisper, you will not get the benefit of a barrel when you go over the rail. There are piranhas and crocodiles in this lake, jag-u-ars and snakes in the jungle, and sharks in the sea. You're nothing to them but their next meal. And all of you bastards are expendable. Savvy?"

A ragged, grumbled chorus of "Aye, Cap'n" came back from them..

"Good! Now get your foul minds out of your stinking codpieces and get back to work!"

As the pirates dispersed, one of them commented, "Cap'n's holdin' a card he ain't playin' regardin' the girl, I'd be willin' to bet on it!"

* * *

Jack approached Gibbs and the others.

"Where is she?"

"In there." Gibbs jerked a thumb toward the alcove where Elizabeth crouched.

"Good." He paused for a moment before he spoke again, this time slightly louder.

"Jake, Toby, pull up a barrel and take shifts on extra watch duty right here for tonight. Arm yourselves. Shoot anyone who tries to disturb her. I'll be right behind that window if I'm needed."

Elizabeth put her back against the bulkhead and sighed sadly. It felt both wonderful and uncomfortable to be protected by Jack. It felt like she was being loaned something she coveted. It was hers to enjoy for a short time, but it would never belong to her.

_He said that _p_irates don't have relationships. He said he'd be the first to help me disembark his ship. But he told them I'm a lady…he defended me…and he behaved like a gentleman in there, at least as much as could be asked for given the situation. And that tattoo…. _The conflicting thoughts and emotions made her chest tighten and ache.

She could smell fish frying, and her stomach growled in response. In all the excitement that followed the discovery of the galleon, she had missed the mid-day meal. She remembered that the piranhas from the hold were to be tonight's supper. Phillip had said that he and Cotton would be frying them on a small stove up on the fo'c's'le. Tonight the whole crew would enjoy a fresh meal for a change. She heard Phillip call the first dog watch shift to get their meal. _I can't go out there and face all of them. Not yet._ Two hours later the call went out for the second dog watch shift to get their food. Elizabeth did not go.

Night surrounded the Black Pearl. Elizabeth remained motionless against the cabin wall, trying unsuccessfully to clear her head. The bottom of the curtain lifted slightly. The movement startled her. She reached for her knife. An unseen hand pushed something under the curtain. It was a wooden plate containing several fried fish. "Thank you," she murmured quietly. She heard the gentle clink of bits of metal on heavy glass, the gurgle of liquid, and nothing more.

The fish was hot and delicious, despite having many tiny, sharp bones. She was glad that nobody was watching her eat. She devoured the piranhas as greedily as they would have devoured her.

When supper ended, the crew came out of the galley and spread about the ship, talking amongst themselves. The sounds of their voices, even in casual conversation, brought the terror of earlier back to Elizabeth.

She lay down on the deck, curled up with her back against the cabin wall. The Damascus steel sword lay next to her, and she placed one hand upon it. Concentrating on her anchor helped to ease the feeling of fear. But the dark angel also reminded her of Jack, and of other recent experiences. Those recollections did not induce fear, but neither were they calming in any way.

Sleep eventually came to her. She dreamed of Jack. But her dreams were not slow moving silent images of Jack holding her sword, or static pictures of Jack with smoky gray angel wings. They were quite active, not to mention improper and lascivious. She awoke several times during the night drenched in her own sweat, breathing heavily, and disturbed by the images seared into her memory. _I can't ever look at him again. I __am__ ruined. _

She did not hear the sounds of bare feet pacing the floor in the cabin behind her.

* * *

A/N: I learned just today that this story's review settings were such that no one could leave anonymous reviews. (Thanks to Alia Sparrow for pointing that out to me!)  
I apologize to all of my anonymous readers! I had no idea. I've changed the setting now so that anyone may leave reviews, not just users. Please feel free to leave comments on this or any previous chapters.

Thank you all for sticking with me this far—the story is really only about to its midpoint.  
There will be lots and lots more yet to come!


	38. Chapter 38 Much Ado About

_**CH 38 Much Ado About…**_

Elizabeth stretched luxuriously. She slowly reached for the red velvet coverlet and what lay underneath. Instead of soft velvet, her hand met a rough wooden wall. Surprise and disappointment roused her. A second later awareness and embarrassment sent her rolling across the alcove floor away from the cabin wall.

The watch bell rang. It was half past six o'clock. She could hear voices on the deck as the crew went about their normal routines. They were swabbing decks and polishing the rails, checking rigging and tightening the sail lashings. The ship was not moving. She peered out through the cannon port. _We must be either becalmed or aground! _Then she remembered seeing the galleon's mast pointing up toward the Pearl from the lake bottom. The Black Pearl was a captive, speared on a Spanish yardarm.

It was then that she became aware of the itching. The leech bites had stopped bleeding during the night. They had all developed little scabs, many of which were stuck to her clothing. They had pulled loose when she moved, causing them to bleed again. The rest of the tiny wounds itched like huge mosquito bites. Her skin was covered in dried blood, and that caused even more itching. The itch that the salt and dirt had caused when the ship was at sea was minor in comparison.

When she scratched her arm vigorously, the itch turned to a burning pain that took several minutes to ease. I c_an't bathe, I can't even scratch. How fast would the piranhas swallow me if I jumped overboard?_ That thought reminded her of diving with Jack, which in turn reminded her of the vividly unchaste dreams of the night before. She considered jumping overboard for the second time in as many minutes.

She pulled herself away from that vicious circle. _Feeling sorry for myself won't solve anything, and I can't stay under here forever._ She clenched her jaw and crawled slowly out from beneath the steps. Jack was not in sight. Under normal circumstances, this early in the morning he would still be in his cabin.

Elizabeth shoved the fish bones from last night's supper plate over the rail. Hoping no one would notice her or speak to her, she hurried off to the galley. She clutched the plate and rushed around the corner through the galley door, head down and trying hard to be invisible. She ran squarely into Jack. The impact of her collision knocked his breakfast of hardtack and grog out of his hands. Her wooden plate flew several feet before landing on the deck.

"Good morning to you too, Miss Swann! Does hunger make you unable to pilot your own feet?" Despite the slight scolding tone to his words, he was grinning.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry! So sorry!" Elizabeth frantically looked for a way to fix the situation, to somehow undo it, to make herself vanish. She grabbed up the empty mug and hardtack off the floor and shoved them into his hands. The mug was upside down, and the hardtack was soggy and sticky from spilled grog. She squeaked "I'm so sorry!" once more before bolting out of the galley. She didn't stop until she was back under the steps.

Jack looked at the remnants of his breakfast, which was now clinging to his hands as well as to his boots. "What's eatin' at her now?"

* * *

Jack's more pressing problem was how to free the Pearl. During his first dive into the lake, he had determined that the yard of the galleon was impaled in the hinge of the Pearl's rudder. But freeing his ship wasn't going to be easy. If he made the wrong choice it could unhinge the rudder, or worse, crack or break it. They might be in the land native to the teak trees from which the Pearl had been crafted, but all the wood cut in South America was exported to England and Europe. Finding large timbers of seasoned teak that was ready to cut and form into a new rudder would be impossible here.

If they had been at sea, the sailors could have gone into the water and unshipped the rudder, temporarily removing it from its hinge. Then wind or ocean currents or the oars would move the Pearl off the obstacle, the rudder would be reattached and all would be well.

But here, the hungry inhabitants of the lake prevented them from removing the rudder. There were only two grenades left, and the ten minutes of piranha-free water they would secure was not enough time to unship the rudder.

Jack ordered men to take positions on the sweeps. "I want to try to back her up," he told Gibbs. "Maybe we can reverse off that yard." When Jack gave the command, Gibbs began a rhythmic chant to set the pace for rowing. The oarsmen strained and heaved, but the ship didn't budge.

Jack told half of the men to face in the opposite direction. Gibbs chanted a rhythm again. When the men pulled the sweeps, the Pearl tried to twist on the yard as the opposing sets of oars directed her to pivot in place. But she couldn't turn far enough to pull free.

After the oarsmen had pulled in every direction but straight up, Jack finally had to admit that they weren't going to be able to row free of the galleon's hold. The crew wasn't powerful enough to pull the ship off the Spanish galleon's yardarm with just oars.

Jack leaned against the helm. Gibbs came up to join him. "Gibbs, what's the best tactic to disable an enemy ship?" "

Gibbs thought a moment and said "Take down her masts, Cap'n. That leaves her a sittin' duck."

"And how do we do that?"

"With chain shot in the cannons, of course! What's the matter with ye? Did ye forget how to fight?" Gibbs looked a little upset at Jack's apparent loss of memory.

Jack pointed toward the starboard bow rail, indicating the galleon below. "Gibbs, I think we're going to need to take down her mast in order to free the Pearl."

"Captain, ye can't see that far down into the water. How are ye goin' to aim a cannon and hit a target ye can't see? And besides, ye can't point the cannon straight down! Not to mention that the recoil from a shot like that would nearly flip us over!"

Jack turned to Gibbs and slapped him on the shoulder. "Yes! That's it! Put all the men on sweeps on the port side, double them up in the gun ports. Have the rest of the crew load all the starboard cannons and pack them with wadding to the mouth. Make ready to fire down into the water at 45 degrees on my signal. We're shooting right over the galleon!"

"But Cap'n! Extra wadding seals the barrels and makes them kick back even harder than usual!"

"Yes, Gibbs, that's exactly the idea! If we can rock her with enough recoil, she should jump off of that yard!"

* * *

Elizabeth huddled under the stairs, reliving the embarrassing breakfast incident over and over in her mind. She wanted to melt away and become part of the deck under those stairs so she never had to face Jack again. She groaned when she heard Gibbs call all hands to starboard cannons. If she didn't appear, she could face punishment. She had been the cause of enough trouble recently without disobeying orders again on top of it. She crawled out onto the deck, ran to the bow and began readying the foremost cannon.

Jack came down from the quarterdeck. He took the cannon nearest the aft hatch and shouted, "Over half the crew's on sweeps. There's not enough of you left to man every cannon. We need to move her stern, so leave the bow cannons. Swann, take the cannon in my cabin. It's closest to the rudder." Elizabeth didn't move. "Swann, go and ready that cannon!" Jack repeated.

Elizabeth looked at the cabin door with its broken glass pane. _It's just my luck. I should have stayed under the steps, _she told herself as she left the bow cannon. She trudged back to the cabin, head down so she didn't make eye contact with anyone on the way.

"Supplies are in the box next to it, Swann!" Jack shouted.

She found the necessary supplies for preparing the cannon in a storage box next to the gun port. She tilted the cannon back and poured in the gunpowder. She pushed it down to the bottom of the barrel with a ramrod, put in a cannon ball, and then packed the entire barrel with torn rags for wadding as Gibbs had ordered. Some of the rags were shredded pieces of red velvet. Using a mallet from the box, she pounded a wooden wedge under the rear of the barrel to aim the cannon downward into the lake. She checked the heavy chains that kept the cannon from leaping off its base or careening across the deck during storms or from the recoil of firing. They were firmly attached to the ship and the cannon's wooden base.

The last step was inserting a fuse in the cannon. She searched for a way to light it, as there was no linstock or flint set in the box. Looking around, she noticed that Jack had left a candle burning in a lamp on the table. It was nearly burned away. _He's either very forgetful, or he has been out of his cabin since before sunrise._

When she went to the table to take the candle, she was surprised to see the linstock from the night before still lying on the floor nearby. The leeches had been picked up. But two sets of bloody footprints still stained the wood everywhere they had walked. The slow match in the linstock had scorched the floor before it was crushed out. She picked it up and lit it with the candle. Then she returned to the cannon to await the command to fire.

Jack spoke to Gibbs. "All the cannons have to fire together to rock her hard enough. I'll give a count of four. Relay my count to the second deck gunners. When she lists, I want the sweeps to dig and pull as hard as they can. Is everything ready?"

Gibbs signaled all clear to Jack before descending the ladder to the second deck.

Jack shouted "Four!" As he shouted, Gibbs shouted as well, relaying the count down to the men manning the cannons on the lowest deck. "Three!" The timing between the counts was clear now. The men began nodding with the shouts. "Two!" "One!" "Fire!"

Fourteen fuses sparked into life at once. Seconds later, fourteen cannons on the starboard side of the Black Pearl, all packed to the gills with enough wadding to triple their recoil power, fired into Lagos Alajuela at the same instant. Fourteen cannon balls plowed into the water, narrowly missing the galleon on the lake bottom. The Pearl pitched hard to port in response to the massive kick of fourteen heavy guns being flung up and backward at the same instant. Thirteen men and one woman staggered as the deck tilted violently under their feet. Twenty oarsmen dug in and pulled the oars with all of their strength as the ship listed hard to port. They received an immediate response from the ship as she fairly jumped forward. A last loud scraping sound echoed through the ship as the rudder dragged past the galleon's yardarm. The Pearl rocked heavily to starboard as she recovered from the recoil, but continued to move forward under the power of the sweeps. She was free.

Gibbs halted the oarsmen. Cheers went up around the ship. Something in the lake caught Jack's attention. He pulled out his spyglass to get a closer look. A huge crocodile was floating belly up in the water. A wicked grin spread across Jack's face. "Break out the gaff hooks! Supper's floating off the starboard bow! Get it before the piranhas do!"

He called down to Gibbs. "Mister Gibbs! Get up here!"

Gibbs appeared a few moments later. "Once that croc is aboard, put Cotton on the helm. Square the foremast yards and set sail on a course due north across the lake. One sail ought to be enough to move her on these waters. Put two of the lads on the bow to watch the water for things that ought not be there. Then have our prize from last night brought to my cabin. It's time to see what we brought up!" Then Jack set about cleaning the cannon he had fired.

* * *

In Jack's cabin, Elizabeth also cleaned the cannon. It was dangerous to leave cannons dirty after firing them. Cleaning the cannons was second nature for every pirate who cared to survive the next battle. When she was finished, everything else that she had used went back into the supply box. She stubbed out the slow match on the cannon base, and put the linstock on the table.

She turned to leave the cabin, and caught sight of the glass fronted book cabinet. She knew that to avoid another scene, she had to get out before Jack returned. But curiosity won over caution, and she stopped to peek at the spines of some of the books. She was surprised to see titles in Spanish, French, Latin and a language written in a script she could not identify. All of these were mixed in with classic books in English—poetry by Jonson, Shakespeare, and Donne, astronomy, science and philosophy books, a Bible and even a book on alchemy. _I haven't read a book in so long… _Elizabeth sighed wistfully and headed for the door.

* * *

As she stepped out of the cabin, she saw Jack coming around the quarterdeck steps, dusting his hands on his pants. Her breath caught in her throat. She dove for her cubby, hoping he hadn't seen her. She heard footsteps approaching. They stopped close by. She waited. Jack cleared his throat. Elizabeth didn't move. Finally Jack spoke. "Miss Swann? Come out from under there. I need to speak with you."

Elizabeth felt her heart do a jig and reel in her chest. She tried to hide the discomfiture on her face as she crawled out from under the steps. It didn't work. She stood up once she was free of the curtain. Jack was standing right in front of her.

He got right to the point. "You're acting like you're afraid of your own shadow today. Why?"

Elizabeth could only babble. "Yesterday…ah, I…um…" She shook her head. "I can't explain it."

Jack nodded. "I see. Did something happen to you yesterday?"

"What do you mean, did something happen to me yesterday? Have you forgotten---"

"_Nothing _happened yesterday, as I am certain you heard me tell the entire crew. You left my cabin just as much a lady as when you entered it."

He took another step forward and lowered his voice to assure that only she could hear him.

"If you choose to interpret the events of yesterday differently, that is your prerogative. By all means, if you want to consider yourself 'ruined', go right ahead. But you are behaving as though you really do have cause to fear me. In doing so, you are giving the men reason to doubt my word. That could jeopardize my authority as captain of this ship. Is that what you intend?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Yesterday, did I give you a reason to fear me?"

"No…I'm not…afraid…of you…"

"Then why all the squeaking and hiding like a mouse?"

Elizabeth sighed and studied her toes for a moment. "…I'm embarrassed…" was all she could utter.

Jack laughed softly and shook his head. "You have to get past that, love. I said that nothing happened. I didn't lie. You have to act like nothing happened, because nothing did. Nothing changed; nothing at all. Savvy?"

"Yes." _Nothing changed? _ "I'll do my best, _Captain._" She bit her tongue on the last word.

"I'll expect nothing less. Now, would you like to see what we brought aboard yesterday? Gibbs and I are about to take a look-see. You should be there. After all, you helped plunder that ship."

Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. She was not enthused at the prospect of spending more time with Jack just then. "I _would_ like to see it…" She finished the sentence silently.  
…_just not right now…_

"Good! Gibbs is bringing it to my cabin as soon as we're under way. Join us when he gets up here. In the meantime, I'm going to go have m'self a nice lie-down. It's been a busy morning!" He turned and went into his cabin.

Elizabeth went back under the stairs and sat down. She sighed and leaned against the wall dividing the cabin from her alcove. _Nothing changed. He asked me to trust him. I did. I let him put me into a trance. He saved my life, in a most…extraordinary…way. He took leeches off my…backside. He defended me from the men again. And nothing changed. Not for him._

After a moment, she felt something bump once against the wall directly behind her head. She hugged her knees to her chest, and rested her chin on them. _This is as close as I ever want to get to him again. Oh, why do I keep lying to myself? I need to get off this ship._


	39. Chapter 39 Captain's Log

_**CH 39 Captain's Log**_

Some time later, Elizabeth heard Gibbs giving instructions just outside her alcove. "Be careful, lads, don't drop any of that! Get it into the Cap'n's cabin and set it on the floor by the table." Elizabeth peeked out. Several pirates were carrying two large locked boxes and the two small chests from the galleon up from below deck. Gibbs opened the cabin door and pointed inside. Elizabeth hurried to get out from under the steps before Gibbs could go in after them. She didn't want to be seen entering the cabin alone.

"'Ello, lass! Feelin' any better today? I know it ain't too pleasant when you get a lungful of water."

"Yes, I'm fine now, thank you."

The pirates who had carried the treasure into the cabin came out again. Gibbs said nothing to them. Elizabeth moved to follow him into the cabin. He stopped and looked at her. "The Captain invited me to see what we brought aboard", she said, trying to sound more excited than she really was. _I've seen more than enough of this cabin recently._

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He went through the door, and she followed behind him, closing it behind her.

Jack was already waiting by the crates. "Keys?" he said to Gibbs, holding out his hand. Gibbs dropped a set of keys into it.

"Where did you lock these up last night?" Jack asked as he tried a key in one of the locks.

"In the brig!" Gibbs answered proudly. "Who'd try to break _into_ the brig?"

"Brilliant, Gibbs," said Jack with only a hint of sarcasm. A loud click drew their eyes to the open lock. Jack removed it from the crate and opened the lid. Inside were three of the cloth bags they had filled with loose objects. Jack lifted one to the table and dumped the contents out. A pile of gold coins and jewelry spilled forth. The pirates pulled up chairs and began examining the treasure.

Gibbs picked up a coin. "Gold doubloons and escudos, Jack!" He picked up a coin and kissed it. Noting Elizabeth's puzzled expression, he explained, "Coin of the Spanish realm. Don't see many of these in the Caribbean! One gold doubloon is worth eight escudos .One gold escudo is worth two silver reales. We call those pieces of eight. One piece of eight is more than a sailor earns in a month on a navy ship!" He laughed and kissed the coin again. Then he began separating the escudos and doubloons into separate piles. Jack looked at some of the doubloons and commented, "These were all minted in sixteen hundred seventy."

Elizabeth picked up an extremely thick and heavy gold chain not quite as long as her forearm. Each link was over an inch long. Every other link was made of twisted gold, and the ones in between were decorated with flowers. The links were not soldered closed; a thin opening could be seen on each one. "What's this? It's too short and heavy to be a necklace or a belt, but it's much too long for a bracelet."

Jack glanced at it. "It's a money chain. Each link equals the weight of an escudo. The links could be twisted off and spent like money. Probably still can in some places, but now you'd most likely just be killed for it soon as you pulled it out."

There were plain rings and bracelets and chains, all of solid gold. There were two extremely long gold chains longer than a tall man's height, with no decoration at all. Many other rings were set with faceted or smooth stones of every size and color imaginable. There were several jeweled pendants and gold crosses, all on sturdy gold chains, Elizabeth set about separating tangled chains and laying each one carefully apart from its fellows.

Gibbs picked up a jeweled gold cup. When he turned it over, a dead leech slid out. Elizabeth gasped and jerked visibly at the sight of it. She could feel her face reddening. Jack turned his head quickly and busied himself with opening one of the small chests they had brought out of the second deck of the galleon. Elizabeth could hear him laughing to himself as he fiddled with the rusty latches. She tightened her lips and resisted the urge to throw something at him.

Jack got the chest open and looked at the contents. He closed it again. "Gibbs, come help me move this to the table!" The two men struggled to move the small box. When it was on the higher surface, Jack opened the top once more. Elizabeth could see a layer of small gold ingots. Jack started taking the first layer of bars out to count them. Elizabeth lifted one. It was about the size of her first two fingers in length, width and thickness, and one side was covered with various stamped designs and letters. Despite its diminutive size it was quite heavy; she estimated it weighed about two pounds. Jack finished counting and announced "Forty eight! And if I'm reading the assay marks right, it was mined and refined in Peru."

He went to one of the carved cupboards and began searching inside it. He returned with a small wooden box which he opened and placed on the table. Inside the box was a set of balance scales and weights. He set up the scale, laid a doubloon in one pan, and started piling the metal weights in the other pan until the two sides were evenly balanced. Next, he weighed one of the gold ingots in the same fashion.

"Judging by the weights, each of these is worth about one hundred and fifty doubloons! And there's another chest just like it!" Elizabeth had never seen him look so completely happy.

"How do you know so much about assay marks and weights?" Elizabeth asked.

"Comes with the territory, love! If you're going to deal in a commodity you need to know all there is to know about it! Every niggling little scrap of information may come in handy some day."

Jack stacked the bars back in the chest and patted them gently before closing the lid. "Gibbs? Let's open the other one!"

They moved the first heavy chest to the floor and brought the second one up to the table. Gibbs sat down, panting heavily but smiling. 'Ah, that's the kind of work a man lives for, ain't it Jack?" Jack nodded and opened the latches on the second chest. A layer of scattered gold and silver coins gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the tall windows.

Jack began lifting out the coins and suddenly stopped short. "'ello, what's this?" He lifted out a rusty flat metal box. Jack set it aside long enough to count the gold bars that were under it. "Forty eight more bars, and a handful of older doubloons as well as some silver pieces of eight."

Gibbs looked at the gold on the table and shook his head in amazement. "I never thought I'd live to see the day, Jack!"

Jack sneered at him. "Thank you, Gibbs. I'm glad you have such faith in me!" Then he grinned, unable to remain angry for even a few seconds in the presence of such wealth.

"What's in that?" Elizabeth asked, pointing to the rusty box.

Jack picked it up and shook it gingerly. "It's not heavy and it doesn't rattle like coins." He attempted to open the box, but the thick layer of rust held it closed. Using the point of his knife, he broke away a little of the rust around the seam between box and lid. He inserted the knife in the resulting crevice and pried, and the rust fell off a whole section of the box. Jack repeated the action until the lid was separated from the bottom. Before he opened the box, he carefully wiped his knife on his sash and examined the blade. "I'll need to sharpen this tonight. That wasn't good for it." He put the knife in his belt and picked up the box.

"Maybe it's full of leeches!" He smiled wickedly and pulled the two halves apart.

* * *

Inside the box was a black leather-bound journal. Jack opened it to a random page and read for a moment. "It's the captain's log book from the galleon!" He flipped back to the first page and read some more. "She is the 'Señora Celestina', out of Cadiz! She was part of the Spanish treasury fleet. The captain was Emidgio Vargas." He sat down, flipped to the last few pages of writing in the book and studied it for a few minutes. His face became serious and he shook his head before setting the book on the table. "Poor buggers!"

"What?" said Gibbs and Elizabeth at once. "What happened to them?"

"The last log entry must have been made shortly before she went down. Panama City was sacked and burned by pirate Admiral Henry Morgan and an entire navy of pirates in early sixteen hundred seventy one. The Celestina had been on the overland route, same as we've been. She left Panama City some time before the attack started."

He stopped and sat silently, thinking. "Apparently after Morgan was through, there was no one left alive in Panama City who knew that the ship was on the road. That's why she was never found!"

"You mean that we're not the first ship to travel over the isthmus this way?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aye, it looks that way, but don't tell Pardal that! He might go looking for the Celestina!" Jack warned her and Gibbs quickly..

"What happened next?" Gibbs prodded Jack to continue.

"The people of Panama City fled into the jungle to escape Morgan's men. They brought all sorts of valuables with them, anything they could carry. They took Panama City's treasury coffers, gold and jewels from the banks and churches, deeds and documents. I gathered from the log that many of the refugees caught up with the ship's caravan and begged the captain to take them back to Spain as extra passengers. They offered to pay him well, so he took them even though the ship was weighed down and overloaded."

Elizabeth said "That was very kind of him to help them."

Gibbs shook his head. "It wasn't smart of him to put that much strain on his ship."

Jack nodded. "No, it wasn't. But that much gold, Gibbs—think of it. Wouldn't you take that risk for that much?" He didn't wait for an answer from Gibbs before going on with the story. He reached for the book, opened it and flipped pages until he found what he was seeking. He began paraphrasing the captain's notes, dragging a finger straight down the page as he read.

"They reached the place where the river had flooded over the road. The ground was soft from recent rain. Their caravan couldn't continue in the mud with the ship on the carrier, and they couldn't return to Panama City. So they launched the Celestina in the lake. The captain thought the river was just flooded from the rain. He was going to try to sail down the river all the way to the Atlantic. Apparently he'd done it before in a smaller ship."

He stopped and commented, "Vargas couldn't have known the lake was formed by a rockslide further down river. Even if he'd made it that far they couldn't have gotten the ship out again." He turned back to the book and paraphrased some more of the captain's notes.

"Vargas thought that his ship was riding very low in the water from all the extra weight aboard her. In the entry just before the last one, he said that he had just found several bad leaks in her hold. She had dried out and cracked while they were on the road, and she was taking on water rapidly."

Gibbs and Elizabeth glanced at each other. Elizabeth touched a patch of tar on her trousers and forgave Jack for that bit of torture.

"He made the last entry while packing his things. He had given the order to abandon ship. His first mate and quartermaster were ordered to row mothers with children ashore in the two longboats. They went due north toward the ship's destination in the lake, the river that the Captain thought would lead them out. They also took the most valuable of the ship's treasure to save it from possibly sinking. They were to unload the longboats and return for more passengers. Vargas remained behind to oversee efforts to keep her afloat until everyone could be rescued. That's where it ends, dated the third of February, sixteen hundred seventy one"

He put the log book on the table and shook his head again. "I'd guess they took on too much water before they could all abandon her. And we know what's hiding in this lake. And that would explain why so much of the gold was near the hatches. It was probably being moved to the longboats when she went down. If this is what was left behind, what part was rescued, and where did it go?"

Elizabeth shivered and hugged herself, rubbing her arms with her hands to smooth down the gooseflesh. She spoke in a hushed voice. "I wonder if any of them survived. Could they have gotten a longboat to shore?"

"Perhaps," said Gibbs, "but unless they found the caravan, they'd have been left with a very long walk and no supplies but what they might have took in the longboats."

Jack stated exactly what Elizabeth had imagined. "It's not likely they got to shore if the longboats were as overloaded as the Celestina was, even if they had an oarsman aboard to row. If they did make it to land, jaguars or snakes probably got them soon after that."

Elizabeth reached for the log book, hoping to find the happy ending that Jack must have missed, the one that told of their survival. When she opened the book, she could not read it. It was written entirely in Spanish.

"So all of this", Gibbs gestured to the bright gold in front of him, "has been down there for seventy five years! Ain't we the lucky ones, eh, Jack?"

"We're not lucky, Gibbs. The Pearl found it for us."

Gibbs burst out laughing. "Yer daft, Jack!"

""m dead serious, "Jack contended. "She wouldn't respond to the helm or to the oars, wouldn't keep a course for a minute. That's not like her. She went straight for the Celestina like she was following a call."

Gibbs turned to Elizabeth, expecting her to agree with him that Jack had gone mad.

But Elizabeth was nodding at Jack's words. "She's angry. Can't you feel it?" She looked at Gibbs. He shook his head.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "She doesn't like the taste of the fresh water."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in mock scorn and laughed. "That's not the half of it!

"And just how do you know this?" Jack regarded her with narrowed eyes and a slight frown.

"Women's intuition."

"Do _you_ believe the Pearl led us to this?" Jack gestured at the gold on the table.

"Let me think. Since I fell in with pirates I've seen…" she ticked off on her fingers as she replied, "…men who turn to walking skeletons in moonlight, a giant mythological sea monster come to life, fish-headed sailors on a ship that sails underwater, two men come back from the dead, and I've been to the end of the world and Davy Jones' locker, and came back from both in one piece"

She held up the hand she had counted on, fingers spread wide, and then turned the hand palm up in a shrug. "After all that, why would I not believe that your ship hunts for treasure? She needs it to get free." Her eyes were hard and serious, contradicting the smile and soft laugh that finished her statement.

Gibbs shook his head and groaned. "Preserve us all, she's as daft as he is!"

* * *

A/N: History lesson:

Pirate Henry Morgan and a cast of thousands of other pirates really did sack and destroy Panama City in1671. The citizens of Panama City really did flee into the jungle with treasures from the city. The Spanish really did build a stone road across the Panama isthmus, and used it to haul wagons full of treasure to the Atlantic port cities of Portobello and Nombre de Dios, from whence it sailed back to Spain. According to some accounts, they really did haul at least a few treasure ships overland between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans during the time they were plundering the mines and ancient treasures of Peru.

Is there a ship full of treasure at the bottom of a lake in the mountains of Panama? You can go look if you wish. I don't like piranhas or leeches.


	40. Chapter 40 Pieces of Eight

_**CH 40 Pieces of Eight**_

Jack's only response was to replace the gold ingots in the second chest before asking Gibbs to help move it to the floor. He kept out three ingots, the Celestina's log book and the doubloons and pieces of eight. He shoved the coins into a pile, and set the book aside. Gesturing to the ingots, he said "These, unfortunately, are going to be Juan's ransom to get the Pearl out of this lake."

"Let's see what else we have here!" Jack lifted another bag and dumped it on the table. The contents were very similar to that of the first bag. More coins and jewelry of all kinds tumbled out. The three sorted out the coins first, putting them in the piles with those of the first bag.

When the coins were separated, Elizabeth again started untangling the chains. Gibbs noticed her and said "I'm glad yer doin' that! My fingers are too stubby for fine work."

Elizabeth smiled. "I used to untangle my mother's necklace for her because neither she nor father could manage it. It's one of those useful talents you rarely need, I suppose."

She stopped speaking and picked up a simple gold ring with a tiny square diamond set diagonally into the band.

"Oh, this looks very much like my mother's wedding ring! But hers had a compass rose engraved around the stone. I remember watching her embroider near the windows when I was a child. On sunny days the stone flashed in the light and made rainbows on the wall…" She slipped the ring on her finger and admired it.

Silence brought her back to the present. Jack and Gibbs were both staring at her with expressions of mild amusement. "Oh, I'm sorry…I got carried away." She blushed as she put the ring back in the pile and busied herself with the tangled chains.

Jack and Gibbs began sorting the jewelry into piles of like items while Elizabeth finished with the chains. When they were through, Jack dumped the third bag onto the table and they repeated the entire process.

Jack put all the coins into one of the empty bags and all the rings and bracelets into the second one. He looked around the room for a moment, and his eyes settled on the leather thong that had tied back his hair. He took it from the table and began threading it through the center of each chain so they hung from it. "Keeps'em from tangling as bad," he explained. When he had them all on the leather, he tied it loosely and laid it aside. "There'll be more in the other bags to add to this."

He was right. The last three bags held more treasures like the first ones. There were a few more jewel encrusted gold cups, or chalices as Jack called them, a large gold plate, and one very large rosary that would have hung down to a man's knees if worn around his neck. There were two more money chains, much more jewelry and many more gold and silver coins. The heaviest item was a belt entirely made up of thick solid gold plaques connected by rings. By Gibbs' estimate, it weighed nearly ten pounds.

But the gaudiest item of the lot was the large gold cross which Jack had brought out of the ship. It was over a foot tall, completely encrusted with large faceted stones both front and back, and had intricate agate cameo carvings of Jesus in the center on both sides. Its base was built to fit on a pole, to be carried in church ceremonies. It was a forceful and dramatic example of the church's wealth and power in old Panama City.

When they were finished, Jack went to the writing desk and returned with a ledger book, a quill and a bottle of ink. ""Now it all needs to be tallied and weighed. Gibbs, you weigh, Lizzie, you count, and I'll write." Every item was inventoried and recorded in the ledger with a description and quantity of like items, and the weight of one piece. Gibbs commented, "This is the hard part, trying to figure what it's worth."

It took several hours to complete the task. Finally Jack said "That's it. Let me run a tally!" He added up all the estimated weights. When he had written the total he whistled softly. He looked up at Gibbs and Elizabeth and said "We've got well over three hundred pounds of gold here! And I don't mean English pounds sterling! That doesn't even include the stones, because we won't know what they're worth until we go to sell them."

"Three hundred _pounds_?" they echoed. "Yes," Jack replied in a hushed voice, "over 200 pounds of ingots alone, plus the rest. We've got over sixty doubloons. At sixteen pieces of eight to the doubloon, that's…," he thought for a moment, "worth around one thousand pieces of eight."

Gibbs added, "The ingots are worth over two thousand pieces of eight each. And we've got near a hundred of'em!"

"That's got to be enough for each of the crew to live comfortably for the rest of their lives!" Elizabeth gasped. Jack and Gibbs laughed at her statement. "You don't know how fast pirates can go through money, lass!" chortled Gibbs.

* * *

When everything had been packed back into the crates and securely locked, Gibbs stood up. "I'll go get some of the lads to put this back in the brig!" He looked down at the crates on the stained floor. His eyes followed the trail of bloody footprints from the cabin into Jack's bedchamber; two sets of bloody footprints, one set larger than the other. He shot a glance at Jack, who was sitting back in his chair with his fingers locked behind his head, feet on the table and humming happily under his breath.

Gibbs clucked his tongue in disapproval and headed for the door. Elizabeth leapt to her feet to follow him. She did not want to be alone in the cabin with Jack even for a second.

"Don't everybody run off! This is a momentous occasion which calls for a drink to celebrate! I've got rum in the cabinet!"

They both stopped. Gibbs shook his head. "Thanks but no, Jack. All that countin' wore me out. I'm for gettin' m'self some supper and turnin' in early."

"Gibbs, it's not like you to turn down rum…maybe you should go have Cotton feel your forehead for fever. Lizzie, how about you?"

Elizabeth replied a little too quickly, "No thank you, Captain. I've got first watch tonight. I'd best keep a clear head." _I'll have to go change shifts with the man who has first watch to make that true._

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her statement.

Jack banged his fists on the arms of his chair and pouted. "We take the biggest prize we've ever gotten, and nobody wants to drink with me!"

Gibbs surrendered, sounding a tad grumpy. "Oh alright! I'll come back when this is all locked up."

Jack smiled at him. "That's more like it!" He got up to go find the rum he had stashed in his armoire.

Elizabeth followed Gibbs out of the cabin, relieved to have escaped without any more embarrassing encounters. She went off to look into the watch shifts.

Gibbs sent men in to get the crates and locked everything in the brig. He returned to Jack's cabin some time later. Jack was already half a bottle of rum ahead of him, and had three more bottles on the table. He held out the open bottle to Gibbs, but Gibbs didn't take it from him. He didn't even sit down before the words burst out of him.

"Cap'n, I've gotta speak my mind on somethin'. You did have the lass in your bedchamber last night, didn't ye?"

Jack frowned and looked at Gibbs sideways. "That would have been memorable, I'm sure! I would think I'd recall if something of that nature had occurred. Oddly enough, I don't. So, to answer your question in one word, 'no'."

"Cap'n, the evidence says otherwise!" He pointed at the footprints on the floor leading to the smaller room.

"Oh bugger, Gibbs! Yes, she was in there, but not with me!"

Gibbs looked confused. "But it was just the two of you in here…who else could it 'ave been?"

"It was me! But we went in separately!"

Gibbs strained to follow him. "So you went in separately but you were in there together…"

"No! She went in and came out, and then I went in and came out. Separately! Not together!"

Gibbs pondered that for a moment. His face lit up. "Oh! So you weren't in there together then! Why didn't ye just say so?"

Jack shook his head slightly and took a long pull on the rum bottle. "I think I did, Gibbs."

Much quieter, he added, "Pity, that." He took another long drink before pushing the bottle toward Gibbs. Thunder rumbled above the ship.

"Oh bugger! A storm, and it's almost sundown. We'd best haul in the sheets and drop anchor for the night so we don't run into anything."

Gibbs took a deep swallow of the rum and said "I'll handle it, Jack. Enjoy your momentous occasion. I'll come back when she's all battened down." He handed the bottle to Jack. "Save me some!" He stood up to leave, and stopped. "By the bye, Jack, the girl didn't have first watch tonight." He left the cabin, shouting orders as soon as he cleared the door.


	41. Chapter 41 Epitaphs In Dust

_**CH 41 Epitaphs In Dust**_

By the time Gibbs returned, Jack had finished the first bottle, and was halfway through the second one. He was staring blankly at nothing. Gibbs recognized that non-expression. "What's vexin' ye, Jack?"

Jack's face was a study in innocent astonishment as he turned to Gibbs. "Nothing, Gibbs, nothing at all! I was just considering how I'll be spendin' my two shares of all o' that." He waved a hand in the general direction of the brig. "What're you goin' to do with your rightful share and a half as first mate of this fine ship?"

"I don't know, Jack. I hadn't given it any thought yet. Maybe I'll send some to m'daughter, if I can find someone who knows where she is now. Beyond that, I don't know! How 'bout you? What're ye goin' ta spend it on?"

"I'm goin' to visit every tart in the Caribbean, a new one every day until I've seen'em all. Then I'll start over again. And I'll have barrels and barrels of rum. Maybe I'll buy a distillery! Then I can drink all I want for free! I can just imagine the barrels branded 'Captain Jack Sparrow's Private Reserve!'" He leapt unsteadily to his feet, put one foot up on his chair and struck a pose. "With m'likeness on it even!"

"Aye, Jack, that sounds like a reasonable plan…" Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Whatever was vexing Jack this time really had him addled.

Jack dropped back into his chair and took another drink. "And then I'm goin' to buy new sails, Gibbs. All new sails for the Pearl, every one of'em black as coal. She's faded, y'know. Can't have that now, can I? Gotta take care of my lady, right? Gotta keep her dressed in finery!" He tilted his chair back on two legs and reached behind his head to pat the mast. He jerked his hand away. The chair rocked roughly back onto four legs, nearly throwing Jack on the floor. "Ow! Whawassat for? Now you don't like black?" He pulled a large splinter out of his finger. "She bit me, Gibbs!"

* * *

Rain dripped from Elizabeth's nose as she sat on the quarterdeck next to the watch bell and hourglass. The pirate who had been assigned first watch thought she was joking when she first approached him about swapping watch shifts. But once he realized she was serious, he was glad to trade for her afternoon watch the next day. He muttered as he headed below deck. "Mad as a hatter, tradin' to _take_ a night watch, and in the rain no less."

The events of the past few days replayed over and over in her mind. She had never felt so confused and alone. When Jack had died, she had realized that she no longer loved Will. But she thought she would still have to marry Will to satisfy society, to prove that _someone_ would have her to wife despite her alleged ruination. _But Will also believed I had been unfaithful to him. How would he have treated me as his wife?_

But Jack had spared her from finding out by coming back from the dead. Will thought Jack had already won the prize he sought, so he had conceded. If Jack had not come back and she had married Will, not out of love but only to save face, and Will had married her just because he had publicly agreed to, what kind of life would they have had together?

_But now Jack is aware of how I feel about him, and he doesn't care. He alternately pushes me away and pulls me toward him. The pirates believe I'm ruined, and only Jack's threats keep them from bothering me. But he doesn't care about me. I don't know what to do, but I can't stay here. I'll go mad._

She felt a vibration run through the Pearl. Without even thinking about it, she put one hand on the smooth and worn black rail and petted it as if she was soothing a frightened horse. She whispered quietly, "I know I'm upsetting things on board. Everything will be alright again once I leave." She jerked her hand back with a start. A black splinter had pierced a fingertip. "No? But what, then?" _I am certainly going mad. I'm talking to a ship and taking accidents for omens. _

Her shift on watch duty ended, and she made her way to the alcove under the steps. She lay down in her wet clothes, with her head on her coat and the Damascus sword within reach. Through the cabin wall she could hear Jack bellowing the song she had taught him on the island. The next minute he was cursing unintelligibly, yet only a minute later he was singing again. _I wonder how many bottles the momentous occasion called for... _She wedged her fingers into her ears and held them there until she fell asleep. The scandalous dreams of the previous night returned, and her sleep was disturbed sporadically for the rest of the night.

* * *

Early the next morning, Gibbs had the Pearl under sail heading due north. The weather had cleared, and by breakfast they were beginning to see details of the far shore. The lake curved to the west where it followed the path of the former river between two hills. As they got nearer to the north shore, Gibbs doubled the bow watch to look out for submerged rocks or trees that might damage the ship. Elizabeth awoke when the crew began to raise the anchor, and headed to the galley for her turn to help serve breakfast.

Jack came out of his cabin and squinted at the bright morning light. He went up the quarterdeck steps a bit unsteadily and approached Gibbs at the helm. His hat was down low over his eyes. Gibbs greeted him. "Mornin', Cap'n!"

"Yes it is indeed morning, Gibbs," Jack growled. "Entirely too morningy for me. I think I prefer the night. Doesn't hurt the eyes as much."

Gibbs asked casually, "What time did ye turn in last night? When I left at half past midnight you were still goin' strong!"

"I don' know…how many bottles were on the table?"

"I think there was still one more there when I left."

"Oh….then that must be how long I stayed up."

Jack squinted at something far off to the west. He pulled out his spyglass and turned it in that direction. "There it is! The road! And it leads right out of the lake like I said it would!"

"Now all we need is the caravan, eh Cap'n?"

"Aye. How long did he say it'd take'em to get here?"

"Four days as I recall."

"Excellent! We're ahead of schedule! Drop anchor here. Let's not approach the road until they show up. The bottom may be fouled with rocks up ahead. I don't want the Pearl to get trapped in that harbor above the dam."

The sailors dropped the anchor. Elizabeth came out of the galley to help with the sails. When she was finished, she turned to the starboard rail and looked east across the lake. It was even longer than it was wide. The eastern shore was not visible at all. The northern shore appeared to be wooded all the way to where it disappeared from sight.

Elizabeth squinted to try to see farther despite the bright sun. There was an outcropping of some kind sticking up out of the water some distance to the east. It appeared to be an island covered with bushes and trees. She looked around for Jack. He was the last person she wanted to speak to, but she needed the spyglass. Spotting him at the helm, she went up the starboard steps to the quarterdeck. Jack's back was to her as he peered westward at the road.

"May I please borrow the spyglass?" Jack spun around at the sound of her voice. All the morning-after bleariness dropped from his face and voice.

"Why? Doin' some birdwatching?"

"No. I think I see an island over there." She pointed toward it.

Jack turned and looked through the spyglass. He lowered it, put it back up and looked again. His expression was a little surprised and dismayed as he handed the spyglass to Elizabeth. She held it up and looked through it. The outcropping was definitely a small island, and something was visible in the bushes at the shoreline. It may have been a large rock or the stern of a small boat.

* * *

Jack chose nine people to go with him in the longboat to investigate the island. He insisted that Elizabeth was to be one of them. "We're off to 'Swann Island'! You found it, you survey it." She donned his sword and belt, which she had not yet returned.

"I didn't say you could keep that forever, savvy? When am I going to get it back?" he asked.

"You said to keep it until mine is useable. I'll give yours back when I find someone who can put the leather grip on mine! I don't sew." Jack grunted noncommittally.

He sat in the front of the longboat looking self-important as the sailors rowed toward the island. As they approached it, they could see the stern of the boat more clearly. It was surrounded by thick brush, which hid it unless the viewer was in just the right place at the right time of day.

The pirates carefully beached the longboat on a small bare area of the shore, taking pains to avoid stepping into the water at all. Jack pointed to Elizabeth. "It's your island, you lead!" His tone was almost sarcastic. _Is he pouting because he didn't see the island first? I do like the sound of 'Swann Island' though…_

She stepped out of the boat and immediately stumbled. Jack snorted in amusement.

"Sea legs!" she grumbled.

Jack laughed. "No, love, I think here it'd be called 'lake legs'!" .

Elizabeth started into the brush, but a sudden memory of a yellow snake brought her up short. She drew Jack's sword and used it to poke and prod the bushes in front of her and over her head before each step.

Finally she reached their destination. It was indeed a small boat. Vines and bushes covered much of it. "Help me with this!" She began whacking at the vines with Jack's sword. Jack raised a finger, intending to protest the treatment of his sword. He thought better of it, and stood to the side to give her more room to work. Three other pirates joined in, and in a few minutes, the boat was uncovered.

It had been built to hold ten people. The oars were missing, and between the center seats was a very large chest. On the stern in very faint letters could be seen the words 'Señora Celestina' in peeling red paint, outlined in faded gilt.

Elizabeth glanced over at Jack. "It's from her! How did they end up here?" The other pirates looked from Jack to Elizabeth in confusion. Jack said only, "Longboat from the galleon." He pointed to the bottom of the boat. Several round holes marred the wood planks. "Someone deliberately scuttled her."

Jack fairly danced with excitement as he approached the chest. "You found the island. So I get to open the chest!" he sang to a teasing childish tune. Rusty hinges squeaked as he used his knife to pry open the unlocked hasp.

The pirates gasped as the sun hit the contents. Inside the chest were massive gold ingots, each the size of a man's hand. All bore assaying stamp marks and they were all as bright and clean as if they'd just come from the foundry that morning. Empty places on top of the stacks showed that two ingots were missing.

The whooping and whistling went on for some time. The men pounded Jack on the back happily. Elizabeth watched Jack accept their praise. _Perhaps this will compensate him for not being the one to discover the island_

"Who in their right mind would leave this just sitting here?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

"Maybe he wasn't in his right mind," Jack replied. "But I think I know why it's here." He lifted an ingot and hefted it. "I'd wager this is at least twenty pounds. That chest weighs too much to move with less than four men." He put the bar down and began counting. His eyes rolled skyward and his fingers wiggled as he pondered the gold. "This is going to put the longboat to the test."

"You're not seriously thinking of taking this, are you?"

"It's gold, love. Pirates never abandon gold unless it's life or death. This is neither. Of course I'm taking it back to the Pearl!"

"It'll sink the longboat! You'll get us all killed! Do you want to be eaten by piranhas? I surely don't!"

The word 'piranhas' halted whatever Jack was about to say next. He frowned at Elizabeth, then at the gold, then at their longboat. "We'll take _some_ of it. How's that?"

* * *

Each pirate carried one gold bar back to the longboat and lined them up in the bottom along the keel.

"Now there's some pretty ballast!" Jack smiled at the ten gold ingots shining in the sun. "What else might be on Swann island? It's not a big place, maybe there's something lighter that we can carry as well. Split up and search the whole island!"

It wasn't long before one of the pirates shouted. "Over here!"

They followed the sound of his voice. When they found him, he was standing near two skeletons lying side by side on the ground. The hand of one lay across the hand of the other. The faded scraps of once-colorful fabric on the bodies and the rotting shoes still on their feet declared them to be women. Next to the skeletons was a long row of low, uneven mounds of earth. Some of the mounds were grown over with vines and plants, but a few were still visible. On each mound were two bare tree branches arranged to form a cross which was just the length of the mound under it. On some of the branches, crude scratches were still visible amidst the moss that was growing on the bark. 'Lidia. 'Estela'. 'Inez'. 'Martina'. Bones poked out of several of the crude burial sites where the scraped up dirt had settled as the bodies decomposed.

Several of the pirates made the sign of the cross. Elizabeth was surprised to see Jack quickly cross himself too. She counted the graves. There were fourteen, plus the two bodies that had not been buried. The first nine mounds of earth in the row were much shorter and narrower than the rest. _Children?_

"Who could have brought those two here?" she pointed to the skeletons. "There must be more somewhere else!"

The group split up again and continued searching. Soon another pirate shouted "This way!" and everyone headed toward the sound. He had found another pair of skeletons in the undergrowth. One was leaning against a large rock, cradling the head of the other in its lap. Their clothing was in tatters, but the seated one still wore the remnants of his boots, and the other had a string of beads around her bony neck. Judging by their size, neither of them was quite fully grown.

Elizabeth's hands flew to her mouth and she turned away from the scene. The horror of the survivors' situation was becoming clear to her. It reminded her that if they hadn't been rescued from the desert island, she and Jack would have ended up as anonymous bones bleaching in the sun. They had been saved only because she had burned the rum. _Weak women die…weak women always die. _ She forced herself to breathe normally, and turned back toward the sad scene.

"That's eighteen people in one longboat," said Elizabeth. "I'm surprised they got this far."

Jack said, "I've seen enough. Let's get back to the Pearl." The men headed toward where their boat was beached. Jack turned to follow them. Elizabeth stopped him.

"Captain? Wait!"

Jack turned around. "What? Don't want to leave Swann Island?"

"Don't call it that anymore! We can't just leave those poor people lying there. After all they went through, they deserve a decent burial."

"We don't have time for that! I don't want to risk Juan arriving early and seeing us out here."

"Fine then. I'll be along in a minute."

Turning her back on him, she walked over to the two skeletons by the rock. She picked up a handful of dirt and scattered it over them. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you. I hope you understand. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May God rest your souls, and those of your companions. Especially those poor children." She turned to follow Jack only to find him still there watching her.

She walked past him without a word and headed toward their longboat. He followed her silently. As she neared the water, something in the undergrowth caught her eye. She drew Jack's sword and used it to part the branches. There was another skeleton. This one also wore rotting boots, and it was much larger than the women in the graveyard. A broken oar lay next to him.

Jack bent down and looked at the bones. "'e's been shot in the head. Look here!" He pointed to a hole in the temple of the skull. There was a matching hole on the other side.


	42. Chapter 42 Waste Nothing

_**CH 42 Waste Nothing**_

Jack turned away from the skeleton, and motioned for Elizabeth to go ahead of him. "I need to, um, take a… you know. I'll be along in a bit." He whisked his hands toward her to hurry her away. She returned to the longboat where the rest of the men were waiting and admiring the gold ingots.

Jack followed along a short while later. He was shuffling very stiffly, arms rigid at his sides, hands curled into loose fists. 'Cap'n, is somethin' wrong?" one of the men called.

"Nothing, nothing at all! Just a touch of a cramp, I'll be fine. Turn the boat around and prepare to launch her."

The pirates turned the longboat on the tiny beach so the bow was in the lake. Jack stepped awkwardly over the side and took his place on the foremost seat. Elizabeth and six of the others got in, stepping over the ten gold bars lined up down the center of the boat. The last two men braced themselves to push and leap. The boat bottomed out in the mud.

"We're too heavy! We'll have to leave some of this gold behind!" Elizabeth turned to Jack.

Jack shook his head vigorously. "No! We just need to get into deeper water! Shove harder!" he commanded the two men on shore. They pushed again, and the boat moved slightly. "See?" Jack cried happily. "Do it again!" They pushed once more. Their feet were at the water's edge, and the longboat was almost floating. The two men looked at one another. Both of them sighed, stepped into the water up to their knees, shoved the boat once more and leapt over the transom into the boat as it began to float. One of them had a piranha hanging off his trouser leg.

The longboat rode dangerously low in the water. The lake lapped at the gunwales. The two men in the oar seat leaned to put the oars in the locks. The boat rocked and water splashed into the bottom.

Elizabeth rounded on Jack accusingly. "Why are we so low in the water? I thought you said you had figured that ten of the ingots wouldn't cause us any difficulty!" Jack ignored her.

The oarsmen began to row. Every stroke brought the boat within an inch or two of being swamped. The pirates tried to bail out the water with their hands, but soon found that any movement at all rocked the small craft and brought in more water. The oarsmen continued to row in short, careful synchronized strokes. The rest of the crew remained as still as possible.

The boat reached deeper water and small waves on the lake threatened to sink her. Halfway back to the Pearl, a loud clunk issued from the bow. Jack looked innocently out at the lake, his arms still straight down at his sides. A gold bar was lying against his boot. The sound of fabric tearing heralded the appearance of a second bar, as the other pocket of Jack's coat gave way.

Elizabeth reached forward and tugged at the curled fingers of Jack's right hand. As she moved, the boat rocked wildly and more water sloshed over the sides. Another ingot fell to the bottom of the boat from its hiding place up Jack's wide, cuffed coat sleeve.

"Ooooh! What have you done!?!" Elizabeth stifled the urge to shove him out of the boat. "You're worse than a blasted magpie, Captain Sparrow! You'll be the death of us all!"

"It's gold, mates! What can I say?" Jack straightened his fingers, dropped the gold bar from his other sleeve, and shrugged. Then he pulled off his boots and removed an ingot from each one.

"There were only six more! Seemed a waste to just leave them there…"

"Cap'n, sit still!" the crew shouted as a little more water spilled into the longboat.

* * *

With water ankle deep in the bottom and more coming in every few oar strokes, the longboat barely made it to the side of the Black Pearl. Jack shouted for the men on board to lower the net that had the blanket tied into it. A rope ladder was dropped, and the men in the longboat began to cautiously move toward it. Jack busied himself putting the gold ingots into the blanketed net. As crew and gold left the longboat, it began to ride higher. When the only one left in the boat was Jack, he placed the last ingot in the net and shouted "Hoist'er up, mates! More treasure coming aboard!" He reached for the ladder and began to climb.

As the net began to rise, the blanket began to tear. A gold bar peeked through the rip. Moving as slowly as a nightmare, it began to slide out of the net. Jack saw it and stopped climbing. "Oh! Not good!" He reached over with one hand to try to catch it, but the bar was too heavy. It slipped through his fingers and splunked into the lake.  
"Ahhh! No! Most definitely not good!" Another ingot appeared at the rip and its weight also pulled it out of Jack's outstretched hand. He climbed the ladder to stay even with the bottom of the net as it was lifted. Four more heavy bars of gold slipped out in rapid succession and hit the water below with a deep 'sploosh' as the tear in the blanket enlarged.

"No more!" Jack leapt for the net. Clinging with both hands, he curled his body around the bottom of the net and with very little effort, raised his legs and twined his boots into the ropes on the other side. The tear in the blanket was temporarily sealed with his body.

The crew raised the net above the rail and swung it over the deck. When they let it down, Jack grunted loudly. "Oof! Ow! Help?" The pirates rushed to move two hundred pounds of gold ingots off of their captain.

Jack sat up, rubbing his chest and stomach. "Oh, bugger! Well, it's a good thing I brought the six extras along, or look how much we'd have lost!" He waved a hand at the ingots. "Gibbs, put all of this with the rest!" He stalked off toward his cabin.

Elizabeth chastised him as he passed her alcove. "You could have gotten us all killed just now! Would our lives have been worth those six gold bars?"

Jack thought for a moment. "With that much gold I'm sure I could find a new crew."

Elizabeth scowled. "Assuming that _you_ survived the piranhas…"

Jack put a hand to his chest in mock astonishment. "Did you forget, love? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"Do the piranhas know that?"

For just a moment, Jack's eyes focused on something very interesting in the air just to his left that only he could see. His eyebrows raised and frowned slightly at the same time. His lips tightened. His eyes met Elizabeth's briefly and looked away again. Without a word, he spun on his heel and went into his cabin.

* * *

Elizabeth had extra galley duty that afternoon. The crocodile that had been killed the day before was too big to cook on the galley's small stove. The crew drew straws for butcher duty and Elizabeth and Cotton got the short ones. Her task was to assist Cotton in butchering the reptile and packing the meat into barrels with salt until they could roast it on shore. Four bloody, messy hours later they were finished. Elizabeth emerged from the galley covered in sweat and gore. She found a bucket and pulled up some lake water. After finding no passenger piranhas in the first bucket, she poured it over her head. The cool water ran down her back and eased the itch from salt and sweat in the leech bites.

She filled bucket after bucket and washed until her hands and arms were free of crocodile blood and guts. One more bucket of wonderful cool water went over her head. The red light of sunset lit up the deck as she wrung out her hair. Her arms felt sore and heavy and her back hurt from hours of chopping through crocodile bones with a hatchet. She headed toward her alcove to rest. As she approached the steps, Jack came out of his cabin.

"Miss Swann, I would like my sword back."

"But you said…"

"I know very well what I said. I changed my mind. I want my sword back."

"But what shall I use for a weapon?"

"Use your own sword." He held out his hand. Elizabeth reached under the steps, pulled out his sword and belt and dumped them into his hand. Biting her lower lip, she turned away abruptly and ducked through the curtain. _He is simply awful!_

She re-emerged a moment later, smiling and holding her own sword and belt. The buckle, which she had been unable to reattach to the belt, was firmly affixed with black leather lacing. The grip of the sword had been neatly wrapped and tied with several layers of smooth scarlet cord. The same cord had been used to make a detailed looped decoration that hung from the knuckle guard. The bottom of the adornment ended in an elaborate round, hard knot. She looked for Jack, but he was gone.

She took the sword from the scabbard and held it out in front of her. Previously the bare metal grip had slipped in her hand. Now wrapped with the blood red cord, it fit her grasp perfectly. She took several practice strokes. The sword responded as if it was an extension of her arm. The decoration, however, swung and bumped her as she moved.

She sheathed the sword and buckled the belt around her waist. She closed her eyes and pictured her anchor image. The dark angel was behind her as always. She still held the sword, but now the grip was deep red.

"It goes around your wrist." Her eyes flew open as Jack's voice startled her.

"What?" She turned to find him sitting behind her on the quarterdeck steps.

"The cord. It's called a sword knot. It keeps the sword from flying out of your hand. Here." He came down from the steps and held out his hand.

She drew the sword and handed it to him, hilt first. He slipped his hand through the loop of knotted cord and grasped the sword to demonstrate. "If it's too long, you can knot the excess around the knuckle bow to shorten it. The knot's called a monkey's fist. It's supposed to bring good luck, so you never let go of the sword in a battle." He handed the sword back to her.

"Did you do this?"

Jack nodded. "I got tired of waiting for you to find someone who could cover the grip with your leather. Besides, that yellow snakeskin wouldn't hold up for but a few fights. I can't sew, but I do know m'knots."

"It's beautiful! It's the perfect covering! Where did you get this cord?" She ran her fingers lightly across the grip and down the sword knot.

Jack laughed. "From Barbossa! It was some part of the French whorehouse drapes he put up in there." He tilted his head toward his cabin. "I think it looks better on that than on m'windows." He gestured toward her sword.

"Thank you… Ja--uh, Captain." The smile she gave him should have illuminated the deck.

Jack just shook his head. "I just wanted my own sword back. I was startin' to feel naked without it. Goodnight, Miss Swann."

He went into his cabin, leaving Elizabeth standing on the deck. She stared at the fine knot work on the sword. _Was this a gift, an apology, or an insult?_


	43. Chapter 43 A First Time for Everything

_**CH 43 There's A First Time For Everything**_

Risqué dreams punctuated Elizabeth's sleep again that night. She awoke breathing heavily and smiling as the first gray light of the virgin day crept in through the cannon port. She caught a teasing hint of a provocative scent. Her body responded to it with a mild shiver of pleasure. She sniffed the air. There it was again, muted but enticing.

She realized she was clutching the handle of the Damascus sword to her chest, just under her chin. She raised the sword closer to her face, and the not-quite-smell got stronger. She put her nose to the cords that bound the grip and inhaled deeply. A brief but pleasant tingle ran through her body and her limbs, and her heart beat a little faster. Her nose and her mind recognized the faint scent of Jack's sweat on the wrapping of the grip. Her body had perceived something more; something that spoke to base instinct, not conscious thought. She held the sword to her face for one more deliberate sniff, quivered, smiled, and sat up. _I may as well get up,_ _I won't be sleeping again tonight…_

She crawled out of the alcove and buckled the sword belt around her waist. Her fingertips could feel every detail of the carving in the leather belt. The metal of the buckle was cold against her hands. The simple sensation of her clothing moving against her skin was almost overwhelming. As she stretched, she was aware of the independent movement of every muscle. She looked up. The clear sky was already a brilliant blue even before the sun was up. The last stars of the night still glittered next to the fading moon on the western horizon.

She took a deep breath and smelled green. A gentle breeze was blowing from the west, carrying scents from the narrow peninsula that divided the main body of the lake from the narrower river channel. Elizabeth walked to the port rail and inhaled the lush scents of the forest air. She could distinguish the fragrances of individual flowers, trees and bushes on the shoreline. She smelled maracuyá and vanilla orchids, and tasted the scents on her tongue. The fertile earth itself was the base note of the living, growing perfume on the air. The calls of song birds on the shore half a mile away were as clear as if they were on board the ship. She had never before felt so aware, so alive, so attuned to herself and the world around her.

As she watched the west shore, the colors of the trees began to intensify from the dull greens of pre-dawn to brighter greens highlighted with orange and yellow. She turned to the east. The sun was just emerging above the horizon. Elizabeth crossed to the starboard rail and leaned her forearms against it to watch the sun come up. Her hands upon the wood of the rail sensed many things at once; the age, dignity, and knowledge imbued into the ship during her many adventures were as apparent to Elizabeth as the texture of the rail itself.

The sunrise exploded with colors that Elizabeth was certain she'd never seen before. She had watched many sunrises during the months she was unable to sleep at night. None had ever been as resplendent with subtle shades of golds, pinks, reds and oranges as this one.

She inhaled deeply of the forest smells as the westerly breeze slipped over her shoulder and ruffled her hair. Suddenly her knees weakened for just an instant as another delicious shiver rippled through her entire body. She breathed again, gulping in the scent. Her already heightened senses intensified even further. As her heart pounded, she could feel her pulse in her fingertips and in her toes, and many places in between. A smile full of secrets tickled her lips. "Good morning, Jack," she whispered to herself.

She stole a glance over her shoulder. The captain of the Black Pearl had just passed behind her on his way to the galley. He had not noticed her. Her smile deepened. He would never be able to sneak up on her again.

* * *

The sailor on watch rang six o'clock, and soon the ship was buzzing with activity. After breakfast, Jack ordered everything to be readied for going ashore on the carrier. The foremast yards were braced fore and aft again, and the sails were furled and lashed tightly. The longboats were tied to the rails, oars stowed inside of them. Before time for the midday meal, everything was in readiness for the Pearl's exit from the lake. 

Just after dinner was over, Jacob called from his seat in the crows' nest, "Cap'n! Red flag to the west!" Jack dashed for his spyglass. Through the glass, Juan, resplendent in white, was visible waving a large red flag near the road out of Lagos Alajuela.

The pirates were ordered to raise the anchor and man the sweeps. When the anchor was secured, the Pearl began turning slowly to the west. The river channel became narrower and shallower as they left the body of the lake. Lookouts on the bow shouted when rocks were visible beneath the surface. It was slow and laborious work to maneuver the one hundred twenty foot long oceangoing vessel through the rock and water maze that was the Chagres River. As they neared the road, the current began to strengthen, so the oarsmen had to fight to maintain the ship's position in the river as well as her speed.

Three exhausting hours later the Pearl finally approached the place where the stone road emerged from the water. Right where the road came out, the river curved hard to the south, so they were facing the ramp. Jack left the helm and climbed up to the bow. Juan was sitting in a chair in the shade of a tree up beyond the bank, sipping wine from a crystal glass. He called out "Captain Sparrow! So good to see you again! I trust you had a pleasant voyage across Lagos Alajuela!"

From his perch on the bow Jack replied, "'twas alright. It was a nice change from cobblestones for a while, at least. So when are you taking us out of here?"

Juan was silent for a moment before answering. "I have decided that I wish to renegotiate our agreement, Captain. Please bring the payment we agreed upon and come to shore in one of your small boats so that we may speak in private." He spotted Elizabeth by the rail near the quarterdeck steps and pointed to her. "And bring her as well!"

Elizabeth grimaced at his words. "Oh yes, Captain. Neither of you are to bring any weapons. She has a vile temper."

Jack shouted "I thought we already had a deal!"

"I changed my mind, Captain. Your ship does not move from the lake until we speak. Right here." He pointed to the ground next to his chair.

Jack turned to Elizabeth, shook his head slightly and shrugged. "Men, drop the anchor so we're not pushed any further by the river current. And prepare a longboat!"

When the anchor settled on the river bottom, the ship slowly swung sideways in a natural attempt to turn anchor-first to the current. She lodged against a rock, holding her broadside to the flow of the river, port side facing the road. The partially blocked river rushed around her bow and stern, holding her in place less than a hundred yards from the stone road..

Jack walked back to oversee the longboat's preparations. Elizabeth met him by the boat. "What are we going to do?" she asked, worry evident in her voice. Her heightened senses of the morning had shifted over into her emotions. Every emotion felt just as exaggerated to her as her sense of smell had been earlier that day.

"Go get your sword. No scabbard, just the sword itself. Carry it point down against yourself, keep it out of sight of shore. Bring it here and put it by the front seat of the longboat, just in case." She did as he instructed. Jack disappeared briefly into his cabin. When he returned, he cautiously placed his sword under the oarsman's seat. They got into the boat and the crew lowered them to the water below.

Jack rowed slowly toward Juan. As he rowed, he spoke quietly to Elizabeth.

"Let me do the talking, love. I don't think he likes you too well after you refused him so politely. I don't know why he wants you down here, but don't do anything that'll set him off. After the Pearl is out of this lake, I'll gladly stand back and let you kill him. But until then, let me handle this. Savvy?"

Elizabeth could only nod nervously. Her increased emotional state had obliterated the earlier intense awareness of her own muscles and movement. Her chest was tight and her hands were clammy. She felt awkward and clumsy, and very frightened. Whether she wanted him to or not, Jack was going to have to handle this situation.

They reached a small cleared area of the shore near the stone road. Jack hopped nimbly ashore past her and pulled the longboat's bow onto the bank. He offered her a hand out of the boat, which she took gratefully to avoid falling. She stumbled up the slight embankment after Jack. They approached Juan, who was still seated in the chair sipping his wine. Juan applied his predatory smile as they drew near.

"Alright, Mister Pardal, here we are. What's this all about?" Jack demanded impatiently.

Juan stood and waved his wine glass out to the side. A man stepped forward to take it, and retreated out of sight. "Ah, Captain Sparrow! I have given much thought to our agreement of four days ago, and have decided that it is not enough for all the inconvenience this business deal has caused me."

"How much do you want now?"

"It's not 'how much', Captain, it's 'who'. I wish to have her—" he gestured to Elizabeth, "—as part of the bargain. If you say no, your ship will remain in Lagos Alajuela. I believe it would be worth your while to consider my offer, Captain. I know she is a spirited girl, and I can only guess how much discord she creates among your crew. I assume they fight often for her favors, yes?"

Jack clenched his jaw for a second. "She doesn't share her favors with any of the crew."

"Ah, then she is, how you say, your personal wench?" Juan smiled knowingly.

"I said she doesn't share her favors with ANY of the crew. That includes m'self."

"Ah, I see! I'm sure that only makes morale among your crew worse, doesn't it, Captain? A beautiful woman aboard and no man may touch her? That must be to your men like a starving man viewing a feast behind glass." He tut-tutted. "Such trouble that must cause! I'm certain things would be more peaceful on your lovely ship if she were no longer aboard, eh?"

"And what would _you_ do with her?"

"Ah, Captain, I am a man of many businesses. I have a place for her at a business I own in Portobello. She would be highly regarded among the other employees there, well cared for, and well paid."

"Doing what, pray tell?"

"Simply entertaining clients of my other businesses."

"And if I say no?"

"Get used to life on fresh water, or find another ship, because this ship stays where she is unless you can pull her out by yourself."

"You strike a hard bargain. I am a bit of a magpie, and I tend to hold onto things which I deem valuable. This one—" he gestured casually at Elizabeth,"—is an excellent cook and seamstress, not to mention that she is decorative, as you've noticed." He looked her up and down lecherously before turning back to Juan.

"But as you so astutely discerned, she is a bit of a hellcat. and she does cause me headaches at times by disobeying orders. I will agree to your terms, under conditions." He turned to a shocked Elizabeth and quickly winked the eye that was facing away from Juan.

"What conditions are those, Captain?" Juan frowned momentarily before pasting the smile back on his face.

"This is the second time you have renegotiated our deal to transport my ship since we left the Pacific. I don't want to be put in a position for you to call for a third renegotiation. I'll give you the payment that you agreed to accept at the time you launched my ship into this lake." He handed Juan a small, heavy cloth bag that had been tucked in his sash. "But I'll hold onto the final payment," he jerked a thumb toward Elizabeth, "until there's salt water under the keel of my ship again. When we are in the Atlantic, not on the shore but floating in it, you may have her. And not a moment earlier."

Juan glanced into the cloth bag and his eyebrows rose in surprise. He carefully folded the bag closed and placed it under the red flag on the seat of his chair. "I will counter your offer one last time, Captain. We will put your ship in the ocean, but the woman remains on the shore when it is launched." He pointed to Elizabeth. He too looked her up and down and back up again. His expression changed from falsely pleasant to truly satyric. Elizabeth felt that he was somehow looking straight through her clothes. She shuddered in disgust and fear.

Jack nodded. "Done!" He turned to Elizabeth. Her mouth was hanging open and her face was pale. "Come on, Swann! The crew is famished, and you've got supper to prepare!" He turned back to Juan. "Let me know when you're ready to pull us out of here."

He sauntered confidently off in the direction of the longboat. As Elizabeth moved to follow him, Juan grabbed her arm. He spun her around and shoved her against the tree next to his chair. "You are mine now, querida! Your Captain has sold you to me to save his precious ship! Before you go, I want a sample of what my final payment shall be!"

He pushed himself against her, pinning her arms between them. He kissed her roughly as he parted her thighs with his knee. One hand roamed down her body, groping between her legs. Elizabeth struggled to free herself as waves of revulsion rolled over her. She felt she would vomit at his touch. She tried to scream, but Juan's mouth muffled the sound. She squirmed, and he pressed himself harder against her to hold her in place. He removed his hand from her crotch and gripped her upper arm painfully in an attempt to control her. He pulled back from the kiss and clamped the other hand over her mouth.

Juan hissed in her ear, "I know you found the Celestina! I recognized the stamps on the gold. I know she's in this lake somewhere. How did you find her in just three days? I've been searching for her for over ten years, ever since I found her longboat near this very spot. There was a skeleton next to it, curled around two gold bars and a bag of emeralds. That treasure funded my businesses and my lifestyle for a while, but it's nearly gone now. I need more. I must find her. You will tell me where she is!" He shook her roughly. "You WILL tell me!" Juan shook her again, banging her head against the tree trunk.

She wriggled one arm out from between their bodies and slapped his face. Juan smiled and laughed. "Good! That's right! You have learned your part in the dance! But I will lead, not you!" He grabbed her free arm and wrenched it down to her side as he pressed his open mouth to hers in another violent kiss. Some of Juan's crew began to laugh as they watched the girl try to fight to free herself.

Jack had reached the longboat. He turned at the sound of men laughing behind him. In an instant he took in the situation. He reached into the boat, seized her sword, hefted it for a second and hurled it. The Damascus steel blade struck the tree trunk just above Elizabeth's head. It rang in a deep clear note as it vibrated from the impact. Juan took two steps back, glanced up at the blade, then over his shoulder at Jack. He turned to his men and said simply "Hold him!"

Several of Juan's crew rushed to grab Jack by the arms. They dragged him back up the bank away from the longboat. The rest of the ground crew came forward for a better view.

Elizabeth used the instant that Juan was distracted to pull the sword from the tree and slip her hand through the cord loop. She was holding the sword with both hands when Juan turned back to her.

"Don't make me kill you!" she stammered.

Juan laughed softly. "I don't believe that will happen." He took a step toward her. She pointed the sword at his chest. "Don't…." she said.

Juan laughed. "A Damascus steel sword! That is worth many times more than the whore holding it. Does that belong to you? If so, it is mine now, just as you are!" He reached a hand around to his opposite side. He smiled the ugly toothy smile of a piranha. Slowly and deliberately, he drew a sword of his own. Elizabeth hadn't seen that he wore a sword belt until that second.

"This is your last chance to surrender. If you provoke the jaguar, you must fight him. Is that what you wish?"

Elizabeth responded to his question by slashing at his face. He parried the blow easily. "Ah, the weak little girl thinks she can fight like a man. Show me then, what you can do! Legendary old Damascus against the finest new Toledo steel." He advanced on her as if she were merely a partner in a lesson.

Elizabeth parried his advances wildly. _Weak women die… _As the swords met, Juan's clanged like the slamming of a prison door, countered by thechurch bell chime of the Damascus blade.. Every few strokes, the razor sharp tip of his blade made contact with her arms or shoulders and left another small bleeding wound. He was playing with her.

Juan began speaking in an almost conversational tone. "You will eventually serve in my brothel in Portobello with the other whores. Some men would pay dearly for a virgin, especially a woman who has some fight in her!" Elizabeth's eyes widened. _Weak women die… _"But I have decided that I will have you first because you refused me, not once but twice. And I will not be gentle. I will enjoy breaking you. By the time I am through with you, you will beg me to do only what I whispered in your ear! The roughest men you service will seem gentle by comparison!" He lunged at her and tagged her sword arm with another shallow cut.

She stumbled and nearly fell. Jack shouted "Lake legs!" Elizabeth's fear fogged brain heard the words but didn't comprehend them. She floundered backwards, parrying blows only by chance, barely staying out of reach of the point of Juan's sword. She gasped for breath. Her face was ashen and her eyes were unfocused. _Weak women die…_

Jack shouted again. "Lizzie, anchor!" One of the men holding him clapped his hand over Jack's mouth.

The suggestion Jack had implanted in Elizabeth's mind before the dives brought the image of the dark angel immediately to her. It was so vivid that it clouded her vision momentarily. The angel's visage was contorted with anger. She felt his rage flow through her, washing away the fear and confusion. Her vision cleared, and so did her head. Her expression changed from fear to hatred.

Jack bit his captor's fingers. When the hand jerked away, he shouted, "Lake legs!" for a second time before his mouth was covered by another hand. Elizabeth suddenly realized that being on land was to her disadvantage. She ducked past Juan, took one haphazard slash at his leg and ran unsteadily down the bank toward the longboat.

Juan roared in rage at the pain she inflicted, and dashed after her. Elizabeth leapt into the boat. Her momentum of the jump carried her to the middle seat. The impact of her landing slid the longboat backward off the bank and out into the river. Juan ran down the incline, took a step in the water and jumped. He landed in the bow of the boat. It took him a second to regain his footing before he spoke again.

"She flees like the frightened deer before the jaguar. This will make it all the sweeter when I finally capture you! No, you will not serve in my brothel. You will be broken by my hand. You will do everything I tell you to do, and you will tell me everything I want to know. When I am through with you I will throw you away like the trash that you are." He took a step toward her and raised his weapon. Before Elizabeth could move, he stabbed at her. His sudden movement rocked the longboat, causing him to miss. Elizabeth stood on the oarsman's seat and rolled gracefully with the boat's movement. But Juan waved his arms to maintain his balance.

Jack wrestled his face free from his captor's hand and shouted. "Lizzie, he's a landlubber!" Elizabeth shifted her weight and rocked the boat a little. Juan's arms windmilled again as he fought to remain upright. Elizabeth cut his face with a flick of her sword. He screamed in rage. She rocked the boat again, and cut his other cheek as he dropped his guard to keep his balance. She did it yet again, and left a shallow but bloody cut down the center of his chest. Juan became incoherent with anger.

She stepped backward off the seat, and retreated to the stern of the longboat. Juan advanced toward her and stepped carefully up onto the seat she had left. As he stepped up, she knelt quickly and seized Jack's sword up from the bottom of the boat. Juan laughed. "That's right, whore, you will kneel before me just like this, and you will learn to keep your teeth covered!"

Elizabeth stood up with Jack's cutlass gripped in her off hand and the Damascus sword in her right.

"So you think two swords will make you a better fighter? Show me!" He struck a fencing pose and waited for her to respond. She stepped backward up onto the rear seat, and opened her arms wide, giving Juan an invitation to stab her through the heart. He took the bait.

As he leapt forward, Elizabeth parried his Toledo steel with a hard blow from the Damascus. Juan's blade was sheared through like butter. It flew through the air into the river. She threw her weight to one side, rocking the boat. As Juan flailed to recover his footing, she rocked the boat the other way, then back again. "I don't need to use two swords, Pardal. I just don't want to lose this one!"

As the rocking gained momentum, the sides of the boat began rising farther up out of the water. Elizabeth began jumping from one side of the seat to the other, causing the longboat to nearly flip in response. Juan couldn't take it. His useless sword hilt flew from his hand as he thrashed his arms desperately. He cursed ferociously as he fell into the deep river.

Elizabeth jumped one more time, landing with her feet wide apart. The boat jerked and leveled in the water, steadied by her centered weight. Juan surfaced, sputtering and swearing. He splashed toward the longboat and grabbed the side with both hands. He began to lift himself out of the water.

Elizabeth slapped him hard on top of the head with the flat of her sword, knocking him back into the river. "Permission to come aboard denied. I want to renegotiate our relationship."

Juan tried again to pull himself into the boat. Elizabeth hit him with the flat of the blade again. "I said no! Don't try it again. The next time you do I'll kill you. Now make me an offer that will convince me to let you back into this boat. Offer me what I want."

"Encantadora!" he whispered.

"Not any more! What will you offer me, Juan? What do you think I want?" She stood over him, the tip of her sword only inches from his eyes.

"Once I find the Celestina, I will give you money, gold, jewels, all you could desire!"

"I already have the Celestina. Give me what I want." Her voice was calm and cold. "You're bleeding into the water. You don't have much time."

"I will give you all my possessions, all my businesses!"

"That's not what I want. Give me what I want."

Juan screamed as the first piranhas found his legs. "What do you want?"

"I want your respect."

"Very well. I will honor you above all other women. I will marry you and you will bear my sons."

"That's definitely not what I want. That would be servitude, not respect."

Juan screamed again as the blood from his wounds drew more piranhas to the feast. "_Cona_! Women only understand one thing!" He tried once more to pull himself up into the longboat..

_Weak women die._ Elizabeth had a sudden vision of all the weak women in Juan's past, the weak women who were whores in his brothel, and the weak women he would continue to hurt and kill if she let him live.

"Your mother should have been the one to kill you." Elizabeth stated flatly.

She stepped on the fingers of a hand that gripped the gunwale. She heard bones crack under her boot. Juan howled and grabbed at her foot with the other hand. A swift overhand stroke with her off hand made the cutlass ring against the gunwale. Juan stared in disbelief at the place where his fingers used to be. Blood spurted from the stumps as the severed digits fell into the longboat. Juan jerked the hand away, screaming. The water around him roiled in red and silver.

"I wish I had slit your throat when I first had the chance."

She lifted her boot from his crushed fingers and kicked him squarely between the eyes with her heel. The impact knocked him backward into the water, and the counteraction caused the longboat to drift away from him. Seconds later Panama Juan Pardal learned just what kind of woman Elizabeth Swann really was.

And so did she.

* * *

A/N: Portuguese again. 

Cona: c-nt


	44. Chapter 44 Liberation

_**CH 44 Liberation**_

Elizabeth stared at the bloody, churning water for a moment. Then she stepped down, sat on the oarsman's seat and put down both swords. She closed her eyes, took two deep breaths, and remained still until she calmed. Upon opening her eyes, she took the oars and began to row back to shore.

She glanced toward the dense bushes that crowded the rivers edge. There it was, a small wooden boat nearly covered with jungle growth. On the transom in faded paint were the words 'Señora Celestina'.

When she reached the clear spot on the bank, she rowed harder to push the boat aground. She stepped out and pulled the heavy longboat far enough ashore to secure it. Lifting both swords from the boat, she turned and walked up the bank toward the waiting ground crew.

Two large men still held Jack by the arms. The rest of the crew stood in three separate groups, one of black men, one of Brazilians, and one of the Guaymi men. They watched in silence as she approached. She stopped halfway between them and the water behind her. She held a sword in each hand. Speaking to the men who held Jack, she said "Release him. He is unarmed and no danger to you."

Jack's face broke into an enormous gold-bedecked smile. "Listen to the lady! You heard what she said!"

Another hand was clapped over his mouth, and he was not released.

Elizabeth spoke again, this time to the entire ground crew. "If any of you loved Pardal so much that you wish to avenge his death, step forward!"

The expression on Jack's face changed immediately to one of shock and horror. He shook his head as much as the hand that kept him quiet would allow.

The men of the ground crew looked at each other and began to laugh. Elizabeth scowled and took a step toward them, raising both swords. Suddenly their mood went from mirthful to startled silence as their eyes grew wide. The men who were holding Jack let go of him, and the entire crew began to back up rapidly.

Jack's mouth opened for a moment. Then he smirked, smiled again and said nothing. Elizabeth and Jack were left standing alone on the bank. The ground crew turned as one and ran up the road until they reached where the mules were tied.

Elizabeth looked at Jack, raised her chin and smiled triumphantly Jack smiled right back at her, and gestured casually toward the river with his thumb. She turned around to face the water. Sixteen gun ports had opened up on the port side of the Black Pearl, and sixteen gleaming black cannons were being cranked into firing position. She could see Gibbs on the quarterdeck, arm raised.

Elizabeth's chin sagged just a little for just a moment. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, waving the swords in the air.

Jack called after the fleeing men, "Wait! Come back! It seems that you all just got a promotion! Who wants to negotiate new terms for taking my ship to the Atlantic?"

Elizabeth went to Juan's chair and lifted the bag of gold ingots from under the flag. She shouted, "I'll offer more than what Pardal was going to pay you!" Jack shot an unpleasant sideways look at her but she ignored him.

One of the black men took a few cautious steps toward them. "Double?"

""What did Pardal promise you?" asked Elizabeth.

The man laughed. When he spoke, his words were colored with an island accent. "He promised us dirt! Our wage was to be one silver reale for the entire trip. He doubled it to two reales after we protested when you insisted on putting your ship in the lake!"

The black man turned to the rest of the crew and gestured. Two other men came forward, a Brazilian and a Guaymi. The three of them talked for a moment before walking together toward Jack and Elizabeth.

They looked from Jack to the bag in Elizabeth's hand, then back to Jack. They turned to Elizabeth. "You hold the money. What terms do you offer?"

Elizabeth shot another quick, triumphant look at Jack. "First I need to know how long the rest of the journey to the Atlantic will take if all goes well.

The man answered, "Five more days, maybe as many as nine if the road is too muddy."

Elizabeth thought about it for a moment. Then she spoke. "Ten times what you would have gotten from…him… if you can get us there in five days or less." She couldn't force herself to say Juan's name again.

She continued. "I'll give you one third now and the rest when we are floating in the Atlantic again. Safe transport, no harm to the ship or the crew, and no renegotiation. If you fail in any way, you won't get the rest of the payment. The longer it takes, the less you receive, until we are down to twice what you would have gotten."

The three men retreated a short distance away and discussed it among themselves. When they returned, the black man spoke for them. "We accept your offer. Show us the payment and tell us how soon you want to begin preparations."

Elizabeth reached into the bag and pulled out one gold ingot. She showed it to the men. "I'm sorry we don't have anything more easily divisible. This will have to be cut." Six dark eyes gleamed at the sight of the bar of gold. The Brazilian lifted it from her hand, hefted it and bit the end. His teeth left a perfect imprint of his crooked teeth in the soft gold. He nodded to the other two. "It is real!" He smiled and handed the bar back to Elizabeth.

She pocketed the bag and looked around the clearing. Spying a nearby fallen tree, she set the gold bar down carefully on a thick part of the log. She stuck Jack's cutlass into the dirt to free one hand, and tucked her sword under her arm before drawing her knife. She used the knife to make a line one third of the way from the end of the bar. After she put the knife away, she took her sword in hand again. Behind her, Jack cried out, "No!"

Elizabeth looked intently at the bar, raised the sword and struck it on the line. The soft, malleable gold split easily under the hard Damascus steel. One third of the bar fell to one side of the log, the rest to the other. She ran her thumb down the sword blade. It was unharmed. She looked back at Jack and shook her head. "If it could cut Toledo steel…"

Elizabeth bent to retrieve both pieces of gold. She dropped the larger piece into the bag in her pocket. It landed with a satisfying 'clink' on the other bars. She didn't notice the Brazilian's eyes widen briefly at the sound.

Elizabeth spoke again. "One more thing. You three are the foremen for your respective crews?" The three men nodded.

"You will be paid double whatever your men will receive. But you must agree to make sure that each man on each crew knows what they are to be paid, no holding back." The men glanced at each other. They all nodded again, faces serious. "Fair enough," said the Brazilian. 'Agreed!" said the black man and the Guaymi together.

Elizabeth handed the smaller piece of gold to the black man, as he seemed to be speaking for the whole crew. "We wish to get out of this lake as fast as we can. Now is not too soon." The three men replied, "Yes'm, immediately!"

They turned toward their crews, shouting in English, Portuguese and Guaymi. Men scattered in all directions to gather what was needed to liberate the Black Pearl from fresh water.

Jack walked closer to Elizabeth and muttered "So when did you get put in charge of moving m' ship?"

She didn't look at him when she responded. "When you sold me to save her."

* * *

Elizabeth turned toward the water and began parting the undergrowth, picking her way carefully toward the old longboat. Jack grabbed his cutlass from the dirt and followed. "What are you doing?"

She didn't speak. When she found the boat, it was covered in plant life just as the other had been. She cut a swath down the center of the vines, using the sword's tip to pull them away from the boat. It was empty but for three oars; two were still in the oarlocks, the third lay in the bottom of the boat. She looked up the bank toward the forest. There in the low ground cover, lying curled on its side as if asleep, was the last skeleton.

She shoved the vines over it away with her sword. The body was wearing boots just like those of the man who had been shot on the island. The skull showed several large cracks. One piece of bone had fallen out completely

Elizabeth grimaced and rubbed her face with her hand. "He abandoned them and didn't even leave them a pistol and shot .He shot a man and starved eighteen women and children to death over two bars of gold."

Jack spoke quietly. "I read the rest of the log book last night. This was the quartermaster. Vargas made several entries regarding problems with the man. He'd been found drunk after stealing from the ship's wine barrels and watering down the rest to hide his thievery. He had also argued with the captain over how to divide the extra profits earned by transporting the refugees from Panama City. I'd wager he knew he was going to be sacked or jailed as soon as they reached Portobello, so he took his opportunity to get away with the gold. "

He pointed to the fractures in the skull. "He probably got that from the broken oar we saw by his mate on the island. With his head broken like that he probably passed out and never woke up again." He glanced at the island in the distance and then back at the bones on the ground. "Man must've been a bull to row that far with 'is brains fallin' out!"

He paused and looked out at the body of the lake. "By the bye, that chest was the King of Spain's share of the treasure being carried by the Celestina. It was twenty percent of all the gold that was on the ship _before_ they took on the extra passengers and their treasure. I will most certainly be going back to the Celestina someday soon."

"Do you truly need more than you already have? Haven't enough people died for that gold? Do you really need to risk more lives over it?" She kicked the skull of the skeleton hard, sending it rolling into the bushes. She watched it until it stopped before turning toward their longboat.

* * *

They worked together without a word as they turned the longboat around to launch it. Elizabeth got into the bow seat. Before Jack got into the boat, he flipped Juan's fingers out of the boat's bottom into the water with the tip of his sword. A school of small piranhas swarmed into the shallow water to get them, splashing and flapping in their feeding frenzy. Jack pushed the longboat off the shore and jumped over the fish to board it.

Elizabeth sat in silence as Jack rowed them back to the Pearl. He tried to make conversation, but she turned her back on him. She didn't say a word to him as they pulled alongside the ship, as they climbed up the ladder, or as they helped the men pull the boat back onto the deck.

Finally Jack couldn't stand it any longer. "What is it now? What awful thing have I done to offend your honor this time?"

Elizabeth turned on him, incredulous. "Oh, nothing. Only that you traded me to that….animal to get your ship out of this lake, that's all!"

Jack held out his hands and shrugged. "I _had_ to tell him I would give him what he wanted! But at least I had bought us some time!. If he hadn't grabbed you we'd have had a week, maybe longer, to come up with a way out of it."

"And that's the problem, right there. You didn't have a plan. Once again you jumped into the middle of something without knowing how you were going to get out of it, or more to the point, how you were going to get _me_ out of it!"

"But I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love! That's just how I am! I make it up as I go along and live by m'luck! It's kept me alive this long…well, mostly, anyway…"

"What would have happened if you hadn't come up with a solution before we reached the ocean? Would you have given me to him to save your ship?"

Jack didn't respond immediately. He frowned slightly and looked at that invisible something in the air just in front of him.

Elizabeth counted to five silently. "Thank you! That's all I needed to know! Here, take this!" She pulled from her pocket the weighty cloth bag which contained the remaining gold from Juan's fee, and tossed it to Jack.

Still carrying her sword, she turned from him and headed toward her alcove, head down; halfway there, she stopped. Her back straightened, her shoulders squared, and her head rose. She smiled and continued walking to the steps. She parted the alcove curtains, reached down and pulled out her sword belt. Strapping it on, she sheathed the sword. She reached into the alcove again and brought out her tricorn hat, which she had not worn since her first week aboard the Pearl. She placed it on her head, spun about and strode toward the galley. "I need something to drink, and I've missed enough meals."

As Lizzie walked away, Jack raised his eyes to follow her as he whispered, "No…" He looked surprised.

He stroked the Pearl's black rail as he spoke softly to his ship. "I think we may be sailin' into some rough waters ahead, darlin'."

* * *

The ground crew returned with the mule teams pulling the carrier. The black man who had negotiated with Lizzie came to the shore and called out, "We have no boats this time to tow you in. You must turn your ship so she can float into the carrier!" The ground crews began to back the carrier down the ramp and into the water. Soon it was level and half submerged.

Jack began shouting orders to the crew. "Raise the anchor! Man the sweeps! Prepare to turn her ninety degrees to port!"

The pirates raised the anchor first. It took many men to turn the capstan and lift the heavy anchor. When it was finally secured to the ship, twenty of them ran below to the sweeps stations. Gibbs and Stubbs went below to oversee the oarsmen. On Jack's command, the men began to pull on the oars, fighting to turn the ship. The river current was too strong, and the Pearl remained crossways in the river, stuck against the rocks.

Gibbs came up on the deck. "Cap'n, it's hopeless. We can't move her. We either need someone to get out and push, or we need to stop the current so she can float free!"

Jack fiddled with the beads in his beard and got a faraway look on his face. He snapped his fingers. "Gibbs, fetch the grenades!"

"Aye…" Gibbs didn't spit out the question that was burning on his tongue. He went below and returned with the last two grenades and a linstock.

Jack went up the rigging on the main mast to get a better view of the area around the ship.

To the east, or starboard was the larger body of the lake, and the narrower passage that had led them to the head of the road. To west, or port was the road itself, and just at the road the river passage twisted hard to the south. Immediately south of the road, the channel narrowed drastically. At the narrows, rocky hills formed a canyon where the original path of the river had cut through it over the centuries. The deep water churned as it rushed through the constricted passage.

Jack climbed higher up the mast until he had reached the highest point on the rigging above the crows' nest. At that point, he was higher than the hills that formed the canyon walls. He smiled, and returned to the deck.

"I'm going to do this from aloft. Ready the sweeps to move on my signal." Jack pulled off his boots and dropped them to the deck. He picked up the grenades and put them in his coat pockets. Both of them fell directly out of the ripped bottoms. "Bugger!" Jack cursed as he caught them. He removed his coat and tossed it over his boots on the deck before he took off one of his sashes and tied it across his chest diagonally. He tucked both grenades into it where they hung against him like babies in a mother's sling. "Somebody light this!" He held out the linstock. Gibbs produced his flint and steel. Soon the hemp rope was hissing and burning. He removed the treated rope from the linstock and held it between his teeth. Grabbing a rope, he headed up the aft mast rigging. A trail of smoke followed him and drifted away over the forest.

When he reached the top yard, he climbed out onto it and stood upright, balancing fearlessly as if it were only inches from the deck. He eased slowly out toward the tapered end as far as he could. He stopped, took the burning rope from his teeth with his left hand, and pulled out a grenade with his right. He squinted as he studied the top of the canyon walls. He lit the grenade, and hurled it as hard as he could toward a point atop the nearer rock wall. The force of the throw made him wobble on the yard, but he caught his balance and remained upright.

The explosion threw rocks up into the air as well as down into the river. A stone the size of an egg hit Jack in the chest. He fell, and caught himself on the yardarm. Shards and chunks of rock rained down on the deck and crew below. Several men cursed as they suffered injuries. Jack dangled from the yard, arms wrapped around the spar, and still gripping the hemp in one hand. He stretched out his neck and took the piece of burning rope in his teeth. If he dropped it now it would land in the folds of the furled sail below him and would surely result in a fire. Then he twisted his body up until he could wrap his legs around the yardarm and furled sail that was tied to it. Hanging upside down like a tree sloth, he crawled back to the mast where he could reach the rigging and right himself.

Lizzie had heard Jack and Gibbs shouting orders as they tried to move the Pearl with the sweeps. Their excited voices brought her out of the galley, still chewing on a small chunk of salted pork. She leaned against the bulkhead near the galley door and watched to see what would transpire.

She regarded Jack with a new appreciation as he climbed the ropes. It took her breath away to observe him as he scaled the rigging and walked out on the yardarm. His movements were powerful, yet graceful and catlike at the same time. She was reminded of the jaguar she had seen on the yardarm. He looked completely natural up there, as near to flying as he could ever be. When he fell, Lizzie gasped, dropped the pork and covered her mouth with both hands to keep from screaming out loud. She didn't breathe again until he reached the mast and pulled himself upright on the ropes.

* * *

Jack looked down at the water far below. The rock slide he had caused had partially blocked the canyon, but the water wasn't rising far enough to move the ship. One more grenade swung in the sash on his hip.

He worked his way back out to the furthest point on the yardarm, lit the second grenade and launched it. This time he didn't wait for the explosion. He dropped onto the yard belly first and clung with arms and legs, head turned away from the blast. Rocks fell on the ship and the pirates again, and more cursing was heard from the deck. Jack pulled himself upright on the yard, looked down at the river and threw the burning hemp into it. The water was rising rapidly now, dammed up by the rock slide. He felt the ship move as she slipped over one of the rocks that were bracing her. He shouted to Gibbs, "Man the sweeps, pull hard to turn her 90 degrees to port! Line up with the piers of the carrier!"

From his perch high atop the ship, Jack could see the oars extending out both sides and rowing in opposite directions to twist the Pearl in place. The ship responded, but the waters kept rising. Soon the partially submerged carrier was barely visible, with only the tallest ribs poking up from the river. If the ship didn't get into the carrier soon, she could be swept past it and get stuck in the narrow canyon. There would be no hope for her after that; she would remain in the lake forever.

He jumped for one of the long nearly vertical stay ropes that supported the mast. Locking his rawhide protected palms over it, he slid down the stay until he could drop safely to the quarterdeck. He took the helm and guided the Pearl into the tight turn, murmuring soft assurances to her as he held the spokes under the smoking rawhide on his palms.

"C'mon darlin', this is it. We're going back to the sea! But you've got to help us get you out of here, and you've got to do it right now!"

The ship slowly responded and began to turn toward the carrier. As she rotated, water that had been building up behind her rushed past on both sides, aiding her movements as it careened through the curved river bed. She moved into position and slid forward between the ribs of the huge cart as neatly if she were being pulled by invisible tow boats. Just as her keel bumped into the carrier's keel support beneath her, the tenuous rock dam that Jack had created gave way. The water level in the river dropped rapidly as the pent up water sped out of the river and over the rocks. The Pearl settled down between the ribs of the carrier, positioned exactly as she had been before she left it.

Shouts and wild cheers went up from both Jack's crew and the ground crew on the river bank. This time even Lizzie cheered.


	45. Chapter 45 Acceptance

_**CH 45 Acceptance**_

When the cheering faded away, the crew of the Pearl took stock of the injuries sustained during the blasts.

None of the injuries were immediately life threatening. But several men needed medical attention for cuts on their heads or shoulders where sharp stone slivers had struck them. One man had a crushed toe, another had a long, deep gash on his chest, and one man lost three teeth. The latter didn't mind his injury though. He mumbled through a mouthful of blood, "They was all loose anyway, and the rock saved m'the trouble of having to pull them out m'self.

Gibbs shouted "Bring the injured to the galley!" As he was the only one besides the Captain with a key, he went to the ship's locked supply room for a bottle of rum to use as anesthetic. Then he and Cotton went into the galley, the ship's all purpose room. Lizzie went along with them, intending to try to make herself useful.

Gibbs rummaged through a box until he found the ship's medical kit. This was a smaller box containing needles, thick thread and some relatively clean rags for bandages. Cotton went to the galley's tool box and took out an oil lantern, a long knife and one of the hatchets they had used to butcher the crocodile. He set the lantern on a table, and laid the implements next to it. Before he lit the lantern he removed the glass shade, leaving the oil-soaked wick easily accessible.

The first victim they treated was the pirate with the crushed toe. The man staggered in and laid down on the deck in the middle of the galley. He was in severe pain and bleeding profusely. Gibbs pulled off his shredded shoe. The big toe was mangled beyond repair. Gibbs looked the man in the eyes and shook his head. Cotton heated the blade of the knife over the lantern flame. Gibbs lifted the hatchet. He gave the man a rolled up rag to bite, and before Lizzie could blink, he chopped off the mutilated toe. Cotton pressed the hot knife to the wound, and the bleeding was staunched as the heat seared the blood vessels closed. The man screamed into the rag and passed out. It took several applications of the heated knife to stop all the bleeding. Cotton put several stitches in the wound to hold it together, then Lizzie bound the foot with one of the rags from the medical kit. Two other men lifted the patient from the deck, and put him in a corner out of the way. When he awoke he was given a large mug of the rum.

Next to be treated was the man with the long chest wound. His bleeding was also stopped with the hot knife blade before Cotton took needle and thread to the open wound. The man clenched his teeth but did not cry out. He watched Cotton stitch him up for a moment and grunted through a grimaced smile, "Think ye can make it spell out 'Mother'?" Cotton laughed his odd tongueless chortle and clapped the man on the arm before continuing. This man, too, was given a large mug of straight rum. He drank it while Cotton sewed him up. The new wound made a deep diagonal slash across the other scars on his chest.

When Cotton was done with that injury, he and Gibbs began picking shards of rocks out of the lesser wounds and stitching them closed. Lizzie applied bandages as each man was finished. The pirates she bandaged were the same men who had harassed her mercilessly only days earlier. One of them commented on this fact. "You're willin' to help patch us up after what we said to ye? You must be some kind o' powerful Christian, ain't ye, to forgive that?"

Lizzie raised her head from binding his arm and looked him straight in the eyes. She smiled the quiet smile of a woman who is fully aware of her own capabilities. "No, not really. I simply know that it will not ever happen again." As she spoke, she might have tied his bandage just a little tighter than may have been necessary.

* * *

The uninjured pirates worked with the ground crew to get the ropes reattached to all the cleats on deck. They soon discovered that they could only tie the front half of the ship fast to the carrier, because the back half of the carrier was too deep in the water to be safely reached.

The tall black man who had spoken for his comrades during the negotiations came to the shore nearest the Pearl. He shouted up for the Captain. Jack poked his head over the rail. 'Aye? Here I am!"

"We're going to pull your ship out now, but she's only tied down half her length. She may slip a bit, but she won't come off. We'll finish lashing her down as soon as we can!"

The mules were hitched up and attached to the tongue of the carrier. More ropes were tied to the front of the cart, and teams of men from the ground crew took them in hand. On the mule driver's shout, the men began to haul on the ropes right alongside the mules. The Pearl moved slowly up the stone incline. She slipped back on the cart a few feet, but stopped sharply as she hit the ends of the lashing ropes on her bow. The ropes made deep twanging sounds, but they held.

Two hours later, the ship and her carrier were again on dry land and tied off to many stout trees to prevent her from rolling back into the lake. Jack's sigh of relief could be heard throughout the Black Pearl. He put his hand on the rail where he had stood to oversee the operation. "See, darlin'? _I_ didn't break _my_ promise to you. Next thing you know, we'll be back on the ocean again!

* * *

Word spread quickly through the ship that 'the girl' had apparently grown a pair of stones. At the supper meal, the galley filled with the crew members who weren't on duty for the first part of dog watch. They sat on long, narrow benches with their elbows on wooden trestle tables and talked while they ate. The conversation turned focused on the sudden change in 'Miss Swann's' demeanor and what had caused it. Every man had a different opinion.

"I thinks it's her monthlies, that's what it is. That always turns women mean!"

"Nah, she's had'em before now, you seen 'em rags o' 'ers! But she's never acted like this before. I think its'at fancy sword that she got from 'oo knows where. She thinks she's somethin' special now that she's got a bit o'pretty steel to flash around!"

"Maybe she did tup the Cap'n t'other day! He were pretty angry at us for havin' fun wif her, more than I'd ha' expected. Maybe now she thinks she's the captain's pet!"

"I think it's from her killin' that Pardal fellow. Sure, he put her up against that tree, but hell, any woman's gotta expect to get grabbed by a man once in a while! He musta said somethin' real bad to her to piss her off enough to kill him! I think 'er blood's still up from the killin'!"

"Aye, sure, why not? It 'appens to men when they's killed. They stays riled for for a time. Could be it 'appens to women as well! I never did see a woman kill a man before though!"

"And didja see what she did? I'da thought she'da stabbed him with that big sword o' 'ers. But she didn't even run'im through! She cut off his fingers and then fed him to the piranhas! That was like somethin' Barbossa would ha' done!"

"Ah, go on! Barbossa couldn't' ha' done that bit with the longboat without throwin' 'imself in the lake as well! Hell,_ I_ couldn't even do that with a longboat and ride it out!"

"I wonder what Pardal said to her?"

"Why? You want ta make her a better offer?"

"Sure, why not? What's a man got to lose, eh?"

Lizzie entered the galley just as the men broke up laughing at the last comments.

"What's so funny?" she asked them. Several of the men looked around nervously. When the Captain didn't immediately appear to defend her, they relaxed.

A man named Wood spoke up, still laughing. "I was just sayin', I could make ye a better offer than whatever Pardal said to ye!"

Lizzie crossed her arms, tapped her chin with a forefinger, and frowned for a moment. She allowed a slow smile to appear on her lips, and made a casual negative gesture with one hand. "I've seen what you have to offer, 'Wee Willie'! Thank you, but I'll take a miss on that!"

Wood responded before he thought. "What? When did you see my…?" He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing he'd just stepped into unfamiliar territory. He'd been baited by a woman, and he'd taken that bait..

Lizzie's smile never faltered. "Well, you did keep insisting that you had to piss over the rail whenever I walked past. You obviously wanted me to look at it. So I did!"

The room went silent. The pirates looked at each other in disbelief. Then one of them threw his head back and began to laugh hysterically. The entire assembly burst into uncontrollable laughter punctuated by pounding on the tables. "Wee Willie Wood!"

Wood went red with anger until some of the other men started punching him in the arms and slapping his back to include him in the jest. He finally made a wry face and shook his head at Lizzie as he started to laugh too. As the laughter died down to the occasional wheeze or snort, someone would gasp out "Wee Willie!" and it would start all over again. When they were all completely out of breath the room finally grew quiet for a moment.

Phillip had been listening from just outside the galley door. He came in behind Lizzie, cleared his throat to announce his presence to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Like it or not, yer a blooded pirate now, Miss Eliz. It's never an easy thing to kill a man, even when he's askin' for it. And that one truly were askin' for it." Several of the pirates muttered agreement. "Aye, she's blooded now. She's one o' us."

He turned to the pirate on galley duty and said , "Give the lady an extra grog tonight, Tom. If ye must account for it, take it out o' my pay. I think she's earned it." He handed Lizzie a full mug. "Shove over, ye sots! Make some room!" Several of the pirates made spaces and offered Lizzie a place to sit. She chose a seat next to Phillip, and for the first time since the day she came aboard the Pearl, she sat comfortably in the galley with the pirates as her comrades. The conversation and laughter never stopped.

* * *

By the time the Pearl was safely ashore, the sun was beginning to set. The foremen for the three different groups of ground crewmen approached the ship. The tall black man called to Jack. "Captain! I am certain you already know that we cannot begin to travel this late in the day. We will set out in the morning. But tonight we wish to celebrate the change in our fortunes. We wish to invite you and your crew to come down and join us! We have some food and drink, but perhaps not enough for all. If you have anything to share, please bring it!"

Jack thought about the offer for all of half a second before replying. "I'm up for a celebration, and I'm sure the crew is too! We'll be down soon!"

He turned around and shouted. "Attention all hands! Cotton! Gibbs! Get the croc meat ready to go ashore! Bring a barrel of rum from the stores, and everybody grab a mug. We're goin' on shore leave tonight! Get everything ready and meet up on the deck to draw for watch shifts!" A cheer went up from the crew in the galley and many of them ran off to go find their friends on the other shift. Soon everyone was crowded around on the deck outside the galley. A few of the men were carrying musical instruments. Mister Moore had a fiddle, Phillip had a wooden flute, and a man named Buckner had a small guitar.

Jack went into the galley and returned a few minutes later with a fist full of broom straws. All of them appeared to be the same length. As he walked around the circle each pirate drew a straw from his hand, even the teen-aged brothers who had never been offered the chance for shore leave before. When all had chosen, Jack said , "Show'em".

Everyone held out their straws. Cheers and groans went up around the circle as three men found that their straws were much shorter than everyone else's. Tobias whooped happily and did a little jig. "Hooray! Finally!".

His younger brother Jacob scowled at the straw in his hand. He muttered to himself. "I'll never get to go!" Jack heard him. He leaned over and said quietly, "Next time, lad, for sure!" The other two men who got short straws grumbled for a few minutes before accepting their lots. One of them finally said with a gruff laugh, "At least we won't be missin' an evenin' with the strumpets!"

Jack instructed the three guards on their duties. "Arm yourselves, and be watchful. This lot may not be any better than their former boss. Ring the watch bell if there's trouble."

* * *

Pirates went over the side on ladders and helped the barrels of meat and rum land safely as they were lowered to the ground. Soon the whole crew, save for the ones left behind on guard duty, was headed toward a blazing fire at the ground crew's camp up the road.

The black foreman greeted them as they rounded the last bend and entered the camp. "'Allo! Welcome back to land!" He smiled, showing large yellow teeth that glowed against his dark skin.

Jack replied, "'Ello, mate! So, are you the new crew boss now?"

The man's smile grew even larger. "I have been Pardal's second for de last seven years. I set up much of de operation for him. All de mule crews answered to me, and I oversaw de building of de carrier. No one has challenged me for de job because dey don't want to work dat hard. Pardal himself didn't even work dat hard!" He laughed heartily.

"So, you're stepping into the shoes of the owner then? Congrats, mate!" Jack smiled.

Lizzie saw Jack speaking to the foreman and walked over to join them. She heard Jack's words and saw the man's smile get even bigger. His happiness was contagious. She smiled too, and asked, "What is your name?"

The man's face became suddenly serious. "My given name is Fritz." His tone was defiant, as if he was expecting an argument about it..

Jack started to laugh, but an elbow in the ribs from Lizzie stopped him. "That's not a common name in the islands…" She wasn't sure what else to say.

Fritz smiled, just a little. "My mother's master thought it would be great sport to brand a slave child with a German name. It is sometimes an inconvenience, but it is my name."

"But you are free now, surely you could change it if you wished?"

Fritz looked a little puzzled. "If a man changes his name, that would change who he is."

"A name is just a name! It doesn't change who you are on the inside."

Fritz's smile returned full force. "I will have to give that some thought, Miss Elizabeth."

Lizzie smiled back. "It's just Lizzie now."


	46. Chapter 46 Gratitude

_**CH 46 Gratitude**_

The crew of the Pearl entered the carrier crew's camp in high spirits. The heavy meat and rum barrels were each carried by two or more pirates. Those men were met by men from the ground crew and directed to put down their loads. The rum barrel was set up on a wooden stand next to a large barrel of Brazilian beer and a slightly smaller barrel of something else. The crocodile meat was taken to a huge fire pit, where it was spitted on branches and set to roasting next to the carcasses of two pigs and several small deer. Soon the smells of meat cooking had all the pirates salivating in anticipation.

Ragetti recognized the Guaymi man who had walked with him on the road. He waved the man over to him, and asked where they had gotten the pig and deer. The Guaymi man simply smiled and said "The forest provides for us." A Brazilian standing nearby said "The Guaymi earn their keep on the road by hunting for the whole crew."

Both groups gathered around another large fire that had been built on the road, some distance from the cooking pit. Trees had been felled and left where they dropped on both sides of the road some time in the past. So there was plenty of room for all hundred twenty some people to fit around the bonfire with plenty of room to spare.

Fritz stepped up to the fire, raised a mug and started the festivities by drinking to the health of their new friends who had so changed the fortunes of the entire ground crew. When the cheers died away, he spoke again. His island accent seemed a little thicker than before. "It seems appropriate dat we should drink to de memory of Mister Pardal and his many wonderful accomplishments."

He paused for a moment, and a wicked grin spread across his face. "Who can think of any?" The entire company burst into laughter and applause. Jack leaned over and spoke into Lizzie's ear. "Seems like you did'em all a favor, love! Maybe we can get a discount on the carrier fee?" Lizzie shot him a disgusted look and went off in search of something to drink.

* * *

A man stopped her as she approached the barrels of drinks. She recognized him as the Brazilian servant who had brought the food and wine to the table when she had dined with Juan. She hadn't paid much attention to him that night. Now she saw that he was perhaps a bit older than Juan, slightly graying at the temples with deep worry lines around his eyes. He bowed to her. "Miss Elizabeth, my name is Renato. I was Juan's manservant for many years. I wish to offer explanation for his behavior toward you. There is no excuse for it, but perhaps if you know what he was, you will understand why I wish you to know." 

Lizzie nodded. She was not sure she wanted to hear what he had to say, but she couldn't think of a way to stop him without being rude. Renato went on. "Juan was birthed by a Brazilian whore. His father was the bastard child of a Portuguese pirate who raped a Guaymi woman." Lizzie's eyebrows went up at hearing that Pardal had pirate blood. _And what a terrible heritage...but that was no excuse._

"He grew up in the brothel, and only learned how to treat women by watching the brothel patrons that came and went every day. He believed that all women were whores deep inside and deserved to be treated as such. He swore he would be rich someday and escape the poverty in which he was raised. He set about learning how to behave like the rich men who visited his mother and the other whores so that when the time came, he would fit into their society.

He was brilliant, but cruel, as you learned. He started his own brothel to keep money flowing in as he tried new ventures. The money from the whorehouse barely supported him. Then he suddenly turned up with great wealth. He would tell no one where he got it. He went through that money quickly, as he fast developed expensive tastes. Soon he had to rely on income from the brothel again. So he set about finding and stealing away the most beautiful women he could, to attract the richest patrons."

Renato paused, and his dark eyes blurred with tears. "This is why I have been with him for so long. He lured my daughter from home with his lies and fine words, and locked her in that prison of a whorehouse. When I confronted him and threatened him, he told me he would kill her if I went to the authorities. He killed another whore whose husband tried to rescue her after she was spirited away by his lies. I've been forced to serve him since then, just to keep my poor daughter alive. I have often wondered if she might be better off dead, but I kept praying that somehow we would be delivered.:

He took Lizzie's hand and kissed it gratefully. "You are that deliverance. When we reach the ocean, I will go straight away to Portobello with news of Pardal's death. This will free my daughter and the other women he has imprisoned. I am forever in your debt, Miss Elizabeth. Anything I can do for you, I will do in thanks. I will gladly serve you in any way I can for the rest of the journey to the sea. Just say the word and I will be there." He bowed to her again.

Lizzie was entirely speechless. Many possible replies bounced around in her head, but none would come out of her mouth. She finally settled on "I simply don't know what to say, Mister Renato!"

"No, no, just Renato, please! No formalities, I am your servant. I cannot wait to see my daughter and tell her that a formidable woman who is less than her age is the one who freed her from that monster. Come, I can tell that you are not used to giving orders to servants. Allow me to help you. Why did you come over here?" He gestured to the side of the encampment. "To get a drink, perhaps? Please allow me."

Lizzie nodded. :"Yes, I did come to get something to drink. But I don't wish to impose upon you. You are not a servant any more! You are free too!"

"Say no more! This is not an imposition! Would you not be grateful to someone who had saved the life of the person dearest to you in all the world? If I had gold I would pay you any sum you asked! But I have none, so please allow me to express my gratitude in the only way I can!"

Lizzie thought about it for a while. "Very well, Renato. I suppose I would also do anything for someone who had saved someone I loved. What is there to drink besides the rum we brought?"

Renato pointed to the largest barrel. "That is beer brewed in Brazilian fashion. I am told it is much different, sweeter, than English beer. And the third barrel is _cachaça_, made from fermented sugar cane. It is also called _aguardente_. That translates as 'burning water', and in comparison, it makes rum taste like sugar water. Beware the cachaça, it is not a drink for women!"

He snapped his fingers and smiled. "I know just the thing! Please wait here!" He disappeared into the camp, leaving Lizzie watching the pirates and ground crew come and go after filling their mugs from the various barrels.

Renato returned, carrying a small wooden cask with a tap on one end. "As I recall, you enjoyed Pardal's Port wine. "He smiled, a little embarrassed. "I did not mean to eavesdrop, but I had to stay nearby to serve the meal promptly." It was bad enough that Jack had followed her, and she didn't know how much he had overheard. Lizzie winced to think that someone else had witnessed everything she had done that night.

Renato noticed her expression. "Forget about that night. He was a snake, that one. He could squeeze through any women's defenses with his pretty words and fine manners until he could snap them up and take them away. Every woman until you, that is! I dared not warn you, but I was very glad that you escaped him. Please, accept the Port and enjoy it without fear tonight! Now that he is dead, I have no other duties. I will enjoy serving you instead. Simply let me know when you wish to have more, and I will bring it to you." He took Lizzie's wooden mug from her and filled it with Port from the cask. He kept the cask with him as he disappeared back into the camp.

* * *

Lizzie made her way back to the fire and sat down on a fallen tree near the edge of the road. She watched the flames dance and began to notice more intense orange and yellow colors developing in the individual tongues of fire. She could feel the powerful sense of awareness that had come over her early that morning returning as she started to relax. The smell of the burning wood became more than just smoke. She could pick out the scents of several different kinds of wood feeding the bonfire. The aromas of the deer, pig and crocodile meats roasting on the other fire were solid as in her mouth as if she'd eaten a bite of each at the same time. 

The light from the flames flickered on the tree canopy overhead. When she looked up at it, she could see pairs of tiny glowing eyes as small animals of the night went cautiously about their business. She stretched her legs out in front of her and enjoyed feeling deeply aware of her body as her muscles responded and relaxed. _I just want to breathe easy and enjoy myself tonight._

Jack came from the far side of the fire and seated himself on the other end of the log from her. He muttered, "Can't find any other place else to sit…", and took a drink from a wooden mug.

Lizzie felt her muscles tense again in anticipation of another disagreement. She watched the flames as she replied, "It's not my log, and the seat_ is_ vacant. Just don't sell me to anybody else."

"Yes, I'm sure this will be a grand party. Let's get right to it then. You did notice that you put yourself in a rather tight spot today with no plan in mind, didn't you?"

"I did not!"

"Oh, yes you did."

When?"

"Oh, I think it might have been that brilliant moment when you invited ninety men to avenge their bosses' death by causing yours. What would you have done if they'd taken you up on that offer, even a few of 'em? What if the Pearl hadn't opened gun ports? How would you have gotten out of that scrape?"

Lizzie started to speak, and thought better of it. _Ouch._ She continued to stare at the fire.

Jack went on. "We're pirates. Nothing ever works out quite the way a pirate wants it to. It's nice to have a plan, but you can't plan everything to the last detail and expect to pull it off just like that. Bein' able to think on your feet is a good trait for any pirate who intends to stay alive. But sometimes you've just got to rely on luck because right at that moment nothin' else is goin' to be any more of a sure thing."

He stopped. "Lizzie, look at me." She reluctantly turned to face him. "Your luck saved you today when you didn't have a plan. The next time you want to be angry because I don't always have a plan for everything right up front, think about that."

Lizzie turned away so her face wouldn't give away her feelings. He had struck his target dead center. _What's that saying_ _about_ _pots and kettles calling each other black? _

She finally nodded. "Fair enough."

They sat in silence for a while, each one sipping their drink and watching the fire.

Lizzie noticed that she could smell the rum in his mug and on his breath. She could smell _him_, not just the strong musky smell of unwashed man, but that indescribable almost-odor that was more experience than actual scent. It was much stronger this time because he was so close. The wonderful shiver that ran through her body nearly made her slide off the log. She smiled at the sensation. _Oh, my…_

Jack didn't notice. He stared at the fire as he spoke. "Where did you disappear to a bit ago?"

"Why do you care?"

Jack opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. "I was just wondering if you'd gotten into trouble and needed rescuing again. It seems to be turning into a habit."

She turned toward him. "I don't think I'll need rescuing any time soon. Actually, someone stopped me to thank me for killing…him."

He looked at her in surprise. "Thanked you? Do tell!"

"His manservant told me that by killing…him, I freed a whole brothel full of women, including the servant's daughter, who…he… had taken there against their will. The man said he insists on being my personal servant until we part ways at the ocean, to show his gratitude. Isn't that nice of him?"

Jack harrumphed into his rum before downing the rest of the mug in one long swallow. As he got up to get more, Lizzie suggested, "Try the barrel on the right. I can't pronounce it, but I was told that it's much stronger than rum."

Jack smiled in anticipation. "Really? I've got to try _that_!" He disappeared around the fire in the direction of the barrels.

Lizzie sipped the Port, and smiled at the sweet flavor. It tasted even better tonight. She could discern different types of grapes in the mixture, some sharper, some sweeter, all colored with the earthy flavor of the wood that formed the barrel in which it was fermented. She took another sip, marveling at how it could be possible to detect so much more depth to the wine now with the same tongue that couldn't taste any of it a week before. There were so many marvelous details of everything she observed that she had never noticed before. It felt as if she was discovering the world for the very first time. She sighed deeply, enjoying all of the interesting perceptions that her senses were bringing to her attention.

* * *

A shout went up announcing that the meat was ready. Most of the company fell into lines near the cooking pit and came away with chunks of steaming roasted wild pig, forest deer, or crocodile on battered metal plates. Lizzie wasn't very hungry since she had eaten supper on the ship. But the food all smelled so heavenly to her that she wanted to try just a bite of everything. The temptation was too strong to resist. Jack came back with a plate of food in one hand and a full mug in the other. As soon as he sat down, she scooted just close enough to help herself to a piece of the crocodile by spearing it off his plate with her knife. 

Jack yelped. "Getcher own, ya scavenger! Quit stealin' the captain's food!"

Lizzie laughed. "You won't miss one little bite. I just want to taste it. I'm not going to steal your whole meal!" She bit off a piece of meat, and dropped the rest of it back onto Jack's plate.

"Hmm. It tastes fine, but it chews like rubber! Certainly not what I'd hoped for after spending so much time hacking it up. What's this?" She speared a different kind of meat and took a bite before putting it back. Jack attempted to slap her hand, but found that holding a full plate in one hand and a full mug in the other didn't leave any hands free with which to slap.

"Ummm, that's better, very tender! Pork, I think. Aaah! Ow! Itth vewwy thpithy!" She fanned her mouth and took a deep drink of the Port to cool her tongue.

Jack reluctantly set his mug on the ground so that he could eat. He pulled out his knife and stuck it into the third piece of meat. "Mine!" he said in a mockingly defensive tone..

Lizzie asked, "Whatever happened to ladies first?" and took the deer meat right off his knife with the point of her own. She took a bite and offered it back to him, holding her knife out so he could skewer the chunk.

Jack took the chunk of meat onto his knife, dropped it into the plate, and crossed his knife blade with hers. He looked at her very seriously. "Whatever happened to asking permission before taking a man's food? I believe you have wounded my pride by stealing food from m' very mouth! Defend yourself, wench!"

He made a gesture toward her knife as if it were a small sword. Lizzie laughingly countered the move, and they acted out a sword fight in miniature at arms' length, his large knife clinking lightly against her long, slender paua handled dagger.

"You fight like a girl!", he laughed.

"I think there might be a reason for that…," she replied distractedly, concentrating on keeping her knuckles intact.

"Aside from the obvious, Turner didn't teach you how to attack properly, and your defense is weak as well!"

"Really, Mister Swordsmanship Teacher? Take that!" She stabbed playfully at his hand, making sure not to touch him.

"Oh, yeah? Take that right back!" He defended from her, and both of them laughed out loud as they banged their knives together.

* * *

Across the fire, Gibbs elbowed Phillip and gestured his mug toward where Jack and Lizzie were play fighting and laughing like two children. "Wouldja lookit that? Now I know what's vexin' 'im for sure. I thought I'd guessed it the other night." 

Phillip looked where Gibbs was pointing. He nodded and smiled. "He could do worse."

Gibbs turned to Phillip. "And she could do better. This can only end badly for her. I don't think you know how Jack feels about ever gettin' attached to a woman."

Phillip nodded his head as he replied, "I'd wager I know a lot more about it than you do, Joshamee. Come on, I'll buy ye another mug o' rum and we can gossip about the Cap'n."

* * *

Jack finally pulled his knife away and said "Enough, woman! I want to eat what's left of my meal before it goes cold." Elizabeth was surprised to realize that she had thoroughly enjoyed being silly. She laughed out loud at the sheer pleasure of feeling free enough to play like a child. Jack laughed too, and his happy smile told her that he felt the same way. 

He took a big bite of the spiced pork. His eyes widened. He dropped the knife that held the pork and grabbed for his mug. He took a huge draught of the contents and choked. He recovered quickly, but Lizzie recognized the sound. She'd made the same one the first time she took a drink of rum.

"It went down the wrong pipe, 's all!" Jack's voice sounded like he'd been eating gravel.

Lizzie giggled and took another swallow of her Port. She raised one eyebrow and added, "Maybe the second swig will go down easier.".


	47. Chapter 47 Eyes Everywhere

_**CH 47 Eyes Everywhere**_

Jack's eyes narrowed as he glanced at her sideways. He cleared his throat a few times. He took another very small, careful sip and rolled it around in his mouth before swallowing it. His eyebrows shot up. "Ohh, this _is_ good!" He held out the mug toward Lizzie. "Here, you stole part of everything else I brought back for m'self. Want to take some o' this as well?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I don't think it would go well with Port wine."

He whipped his whipped around to face her. "Where'd you get Port?"

"Renato got it for me."

"Who is _Renato_?" His tone took on an edge as he spoke the name.

"He's my manservant until we reach the Atlantic. I told you already!" She tipped her head back and drained the mug. Then she held it above her and waved it in the air. A few seconds later, Renato appeared, smiling.

"Would you like more Port, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes, please. That would be lovely!" He took her mug and hurried off, returning moments later with it full nearly to the brim with more Port wine. She smiled at him. "Thank you, Renato!" He bowed and disappeared into the shadows. _He certainly is good at his job! He could give lessons to some of father's servants!_

She turned to Jack. The indescribable expression on his face was worth at least one gold brick. "Oh, there'll certainly be no livin' with you after this..." he grumbled into his mug.

"I do believe I've heard you say that before."

Jack hugged his mug close to his chest protectively. "The last time I said it, you had just burned three weeks' worth of perfectly good rum!"

* * *

The pirates mingled amicably with the black men and the Brazilians from the ground crew. The large quantity of food and alcohol put the pirates in an excellent mood. The men from the ground crew were glad to be rid of Juan, as he had often been abusive whenever things didn't go his way. They were equally glad to be getting more pay than Juan had offered them. 

One of Fritz's men remarked that the one thing that prevented the festivities from being perfect was female company. Several of the Brazilians looked toward Lizzie when the comment was made, but the pirates quickly made it clear that she was one of them and not to be meddled with. One of the Brazilian men smiled as he replied, "I saw what she did to Pardal. I would not want to cross her!" The men all laughed. The man continued, pointing a finger to one side of the bonfire. "In any case, it seems she's already taken." Everyone looked where he was pointing. Jack and Lizzie were laughing together. Eyebrows rose, and glances and knowing nods were exchanged between the men of the Pearl, as well as more than a few quiet bets.

Most of the Guaymi men stayed in their own group away from everyone else. Very few of them spoke English. Those men ate the meats, drank the Brazilian beer, spoke in their native language, and did not socialize with anyone, pirate, black or Brazilian, any more than necessary. The few who did speak English conversed politely yet briefly if anyone from either crew spoke to them. But for the most part they too stayed with their tribal kinsmen.

Pintel and Ragetti invited Tobias over to join them. Pintel got him a mug of rum. "'Ere, lad! Yer on yer first shore leave tonight. It's high time ye had a taste of a man's drink. That grog we get aboard ship is so weak it's like drinkin' milk." Tobias took a tentative sip of the rum and fought hard not to gag. His eyes began to water. But he didn't want the two pirates to think less of him for not liking it. "It's good!" he said, and took another small drink. The second didn't taste any better than the first, but at least he didn't gag that time. He took another sip, which didn't seem to be quite as offensive. He took a deeper drink from the mug.

"That's the way," said Ragetti encouragingly. "Rum ain't a sippin' drink!" He and Pintel held up their mugs and clunked them together. Pintel said, "'Ere's to our Toby!" Tobias smiled and hoisted his mug to touch theirs. "Here's to shore leave!" he replied before taking another swallow. Rum wasn't nearly so bad after a man got used to the taste.

Several of the Brazilian men talked together in the shadows at the edge of the gathering. No one noticed when two of them did not return to the firelight with the rest of their fellows.

* * *

The conversation quiesced there. Jack and Lizzie both turned toward the fire and sipped their drinks quietly. Being marooned on that island had come up three times in the last few minutes. Memories of that first time she had been alone with Jack came back to her. She had thought about it many times before, but the only memories she had allowed herself to acknowledge all revolved around the fear she had felt. 

When they first reached the island after Barbossa marooned them, she had been truly terrified; afraid for Will, afraid of Jack, afraid that she would die there. The pirate stories she read as a child had described the horrible death by starvation and dehydration of pirates marooned by their shipmates after breaking the Code. She knew that would have been her fate as well, unless Jack chose to be merciful and kill her with the single shot which Barbossa had left him. Whenever anything reminded her of that night and day, the first recollections to come to her were those of fear and helplessness.

The mention of the rum on the island called up other memories, ones that Miss Elizabeth Swann had buried deep, ashamed to remember them at all. But Lizzie eagerly dug them out and dusted them off for a long overdue review. She recalled her first taste of rum and how it had burned her throat; the second swallow of rum which hadn't burned much at all; the third drink of rum which had made her limbs tingle, just a little, and how a few more swallows of the drink had relaxed her inhibitions enough to sing that silly pirate song and dance around the fire with Jack.

Reaching deeper into her memories, she found the locked away keepsakes she sought. This was the evidence that had made Miss Elizabeth Swann doubt herself. Lizzie remembered berating herself many times for getting drunk enough to link arms and dance around a bonfire with a 'filthy pirate', for willingly putting her head on Jack's shoulder as she empathized with him about being marooned, and for not slapping him forcefully when he put his arm tentatively around her.

These memories had caused Miss Elizabeth Swann to cringe inside and question whether she could truly call herself a lady after behaving so wantonly with a total stranger, a pirate at that. She knew that she had teetered close to the edge of something dangerous. The nearness of it, and the fact that she had allowed herself to get so close to that edge had scared her. In response, she chose to try to ignore those memories and pretend that they had not happened.

As Lizzie allowed herself to relive the sensation having of Jack's arm around her shoulder that night, another one of those wonderful quick shivers ran through her entire body and left her limbs tingling much like the rum had. The shiver was over almost as soon as it started. It left her wanting more. She recalled how disgusted she had been with herself when that had happened to her for the first time ever as Jack had touched her shoulder that night. Remembering that feeling later had mortified her, even more so when it came over her again as she thought of the original incident. Even her dreams about that night had embarrassed her. Until this morning.

_I was so…naïve, so stupid. If I had only known then what I know now, maybe things might have been different But probably not. My certitude regarding maintaining my honor has not changed, even though I have. I would not have thrown it away for a night with him then any more than I would now, no matter how appealing the thought…_

That last thought caught her by surprise. She had never actually admitted to herself that the thought of a night with him _did_ appeal to her. Another fleeting shiver rushed through her, making her catch her breath. She shook her head gently to clear it.

With a start, Lizzie realized that she had maintained her moral integrity more effectively than Miss Elizabeth Swann had ever acknowledged. She _had_ pulled away, albeit not at all forcefully, when Jack crossed the line and touched her shoulder. She had stopped drinking rum _before_ she got too drunk to maintain a mostly clear head. And _she_ had come up with, _and_ carried out, the plan to burn the rum which had gotten her, as well as Jack, off the island _before_ she was subjected to any further Sparrow-ish temptations.

Months later she briefly had become so daring as to allow herself to flirt with Jack aboard the Pearl, just before the Kraken found them. Even then, she had let him know, however weakly, that her honor still stood between them. She didn't even try to justify the kiss. _I've been much too hard on myself for much too long over something that might have happened but didn't. That ends, right now. Even if I decide to maintain my maidenhood forever, there's nothing wrong with simply enjoying being in the company of a man._

She looked at Jack. He was leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees, the mug of Brazilian 'burning water' held under his chin with both hands. Every so often he took a drink, but he did not otherwise move. His eyes looked toward the fire, but his mind was miles away. A small, thoughtful smile curled the corners of his mouth.

Lizzie slid toward Jack until only inches separated their shoulders. She turned and touched his forearm lightly. He jumped at her touch and stared at her hand on his arm for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers. His eyebrows rose quizzically, but he said nothing.

"Captain? Would you teach me how to handle a sword? I know I could have done better today. Perhaps I'm not as good as I had thought. " _Or perhaps I'm not as good as Will told me I was…_

* * *

Phillip and Gibbs returned from taking a stroll up the road in the opposite direction from the ship. 

"Ye mustn't ever let on to Jack that I've told you any of this. He swore he'd kill me if anyone ever found out about it. Promise me, Josh, ya won't tell a soul, especially not _her_. He's a proud man, that one. For anyone to find this out would knock him down, maybe for good. He's got to work it out for his self before he can move on. It's been nigh on seven years now, it's time he got past it. If anyone can help him, it's Miss Eliz. I've become quite fond of the lass. She's got a good head on her shoulders. She's so like my daughter, Joshamee, that sometimes I almost call her by the wrong name."

Gibbs nodded. "I'm fond of Miss Elizabeth too. She's a right different sort of woman, that one. Almost makes me want to reconsider thinkin' that women are unlucky to have aboard a ship!" He took a drink of his rum. "Some of Jack's odd quirks make a little sense now that I know somethin' more of 'is past, not that Jack ever makes much sense at any time. Thank ye for letting me in on it. Maybe knowin' will help me do m'duties as 'is first mate a bit better. I swear to ye, Phillip. I won't tell anyone even on pain of death, though I doubt anybody's likely to be killin' for that particular secret. She'll be wantin' to know about it, I'm sure, but it ain't my place to tell her. It's his, if he's got intentions toward her other than just beddin' her. And I think if he tries that, she won't need us to parley for her."

* * *

Tobias finished the mug of rum. He really liked rum. It made him feel invincible. He didn't feel like just the second youngest boy on the Pearl tonight. He felt like he could do anything. Pintel took his mug and returned with it full of something foamy. "Whassis?" Tobias asked, remembering that the mug of rum hadn't had any foam. "It's some kind o' Brazilian beer, "replied Ragetti. "We hadn't tried it, thought we'd give it a go, and we thought you might want some too." Tobias took a sip. It tasted strange after the rum, but it was also quite good. The beer was sweet, almost like it had honey or fruit in it. It went down much easier than the rum had. Before he realized it, his mug was empty. 

"Oops!" he said, looking down inside it.

Pintel laughed, "No mind, lad, there's plenty more!" He sent Tobias over to get his own refill, calling out after him, "Middle barrel!" Tobias returned with a full mug. He finished it and refilled it twice more before Pintel and Ragetti finished their first mug of the beer.

* * *

Several of the Guaymi men noticed Cotton sitting by himself, with Parrot on his shoulder. Cotton had given the macaw a piece of deer bone. Parrot was happily cracking open the bone to remove the marrow, leaving bits of bone and fat all over Cotton's shoulder. The Guaymi approached and began chattering rapidly to each other in their own language. Parrot eyed them warily as he gnawed on his prize. 

One of the Guaymi men pointed to Parrot, then at the cooking fire where a pig and deer were still roasting. The man made gestures of moving his hands to his mouth as if he was eating, and smiled as if whatever he was eating tasted very good. Cotton frowned. Parrot dropped the bone, shrieked "Not to be meddled with!" and dove for cover under Cotton's chin. The nearly three foot long bird clung to the front of his shirt with his head hidden under Cotton's hand. Cotton scratched the macaw's neck, ruffling the feathers, and shook his head sternly at the Guaymi men.

The Guaymi spoke among themselves. One of them pointed at Cotton, knocked himself on the head and pantomimed staggering dizzily. He took a piece of meat from one of the other men and kissed it, then put it on his shoulder and petted it. The others laughed hysterically, and they wandered away to rejoin the rest of their group. Parrot returned to Cotton's shoulder, shook himself vigorously to straighten the ruffled feathers, and shouted after them, "Daft like Jack!"

* * *

The two Brazilians crept quietly down the road toward the Black Pearl. As they approached her, they could see lanterns burning on the main deck, the quarterdeck and the bow. They remained in the shadows near the trees and their movements were slow and soundless. They went all the way around the carrier until they found a ladder which had been left down so the crew could return to the ship. One of the men stepped out of the deeper shadows of the forest edge and slipped across the open area to the side of the ship. His companion followed him, and they began to climb stealthily up the ladder. When the first man reached the rail, he stopped and peered over it, looking about quickly to see if anyone was visible. He saw no one. Emboldened, he climbed further and stepped onto the edge of the ship in preparation for jumping onto the deck. 

The sound of a pistol being cocked froze him in place. "Avast! Move and you're dead!" From his low vantage near the gunwale, the Brazilian had not seen Jacob sitting on the quarterdeck leaning against the base of the helm. Jacob held the pistol in both hands. His voice was shaky, which was not helped by the fact that it cracked as he spoke. The Brazilian snorted in amusement. The man below him on the ladder said "What is it?"

"They left a mere child to guard their ship!" He took another step and put one foot on the deck.

Jacob shouted louder, "I said don't move!" He kept the gun pointed at the stranger.

A sleepy voice from the fo'c's'le called out "What is it, Jake?"

"We're bein' boarded, Pete!"

Pete, who had been dozing on the hatch cover, jumped to his feet. He pulled his pistol out of his belt as he got up. "Who goes there?"

Another pistol was cocked somewhere over the heads of the Brazilian man. The third guard, Mack, called from his perch up on the lowest yard of the main mast, "I heard ye, Jake! I'm drawn and aimed! If he moves once more, he's dead!"

The Brazilian looked around and found the source of the voice above him. He rolled his eyes and put his hands in the air. "My friend and I just wanted to visit your lovely ship! Your captain said we could come take a look around. He did not mention that he had his best guards on duty!"

"Quit pumpin' the bilge at us. The Cap'n didn't send you here! Go on, get off the ship right now or you'll be feedin' the fish like your boss!"

The Brazilian nodded. "I will go back to your captain and tell him that you refused us. If he is angry with you it will be only due to your lack of hospitality."

Mack replied, "Why don't ye go do just that? I for one would love to hear what he says to ye!"

The Brazilian stepped back onto the ladder and motioned for the man below him to move. When they reached the ground they did not try to remain in the shadows as they returned to the bonfire. All three of the men on the Pearl came down to the rail where the ladder was tied and watched them until they were out of sight. Mack pulled up the ladder. "The lads'll just have to call out when they're ready to come aboard. I don't want more surprises tonight."

"Pete, should one of us go tell the Cap'n about them? Jake asked. His fourteen year old voice cracked three times in one sentence, and his cheeks were bright red up to his ears from excitement.

"I think not, Jake. Those two were up to no good, I could feel it in m'bones. With both of 'em still on the road somewhere between there and here, if one of us goes alone, 'e might not make it to the Cap'n."

Mack added, "Besides, I think we'd best leave Cap'n have a night to enjoy 'imself. We can tell'im about this in the mornin'. I seen him watchin' Miss Elizabeth walk away from him earlier. He had a right peculiar look on 'is face. I recognized that look. Seen it before when we've been at sea too long and he finally gets to a whorehouse. I think she's got him well and truly riled!"

Pete laughed. "Aye, I saw him lookin' at 'er too, but that wasn't the face he was wearin'. He's gone soft on her. She found 'er backbone today, and I think he's lost 'is heart. It'll be interesting to watch this as it plays out! I'd put my money on the girl."

"Really?" said Mack. "Ye think so? Fer what and when?"

"I'll bet a silver piece that she's got him making an honest woman outta her before we reach Cuba!"

"Jack's too keen on every woman he meets to tie his self up to just one. My bet is he beds her and then gives 'er the boot before Tortuga."

"Never happen, Mack! I think she'd kill 'im if he tried! I'll take yer bet!" The two shook hands and knocked the knuckles of their fists together to seal their agreement.

Jacob muttered to himself. "Damn. Oh well, if Pete is right, at least Tobias won't have a chance with her either!"

* * *

Jack blinked at Lizzie and raised his chin a little so that he was staring down his nose at her. "Captain? There's no Captain here tonight, love. He's on shore leave. There's just ol' Jack, but he'd be happy to teach you a thing or two about whatever you fancy to learn! Will he do?" 

Lizzie smiled brightly. "Oh, yes, please! He'll do just fine!"

* * *

A/N: "Avast" really means "freeze" or "halt". Really. 


	48. Chapter 48 Lessons

_**CH 48 Lessons**_

Jack took a nip of his drink. "Where would you like to start, love? I had a front row seat for the show today, as it were. I saw lots of little things that could use some rubbin' up."

"In your mind, what stands out the most?"

Jack cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. "Well, the bit with rocking the boat was a stroke of genius. I'd have kept him off balance in there with m'sword had it been me. But it took you too long to get into the game at the start. If he'd have been serious you'd have been dead at the first blow. Let's start there."

"Alright, I suppose it's always best to start at the top!" She drained her mug of Port and set it on the log next to her before standing up. Jack took a deep draught of the _cachaça. _He looked sadly into the mug. "'s almost empty. " He set it on the log, picked it back up and downed the rest in two long gulps before putting it down again. "Didn't want anyone else to steal it!" he explained. He stood up, and took a small step backward before catching himself. "Blasted sea legs..." He looked at Lizzie. She was trying very hard not to smile.

"C'mon over here, love, away from the log. Don't want to trip ourselves on it. Do you think you can handle that sword without choppin' off m' head?" Lizzie scowled briefly, then nodded. Jack winked to let her know he was teasing.

"Alright then, draw it." He stepped back from her, drew his cutlass and held it in front of him. She drew the Damascus sword and held it up. "Right there's your first mistake! You're holding it like a flag pole, too straight up. That's a long blade. Use the length to keep your opponent farther away from you. There, that's better!" He lowered his sword and gestured that she should do the same while he spoke.

"Next, always try to stay out of the circle of the other fellow's reach. Make him come into your circle and try not to go into his if you can help it. That long sword will help you a lot if you're fighting a short man with a short sword. Taller men will be more of a problem for you. You need to size up your opponent, try to figure where his weak spots might be. You and me, we're about evenly matched. You're shorter, lighter, and have a longer, not to mention much sharper sword. I'm taller, stronger and have a shorter sword but a longer arm. That's the kind of things you need to weigh up in your mind soon's you're challenged. Try to see where his weaknesses may be before you ever raise the sword."

He raised the cutlass. "Take your stance again."

She did so. Without warning he feinted toward her. She hacked at the cutlass. "No, no, no! You need to respond _before _the sword moves toward you, not _as_." He feinted again, and she responded the same way. He lowered his sword again. "I see the problem. You're watching m' sword, not me. When you're in a fight, you need to watch the other fellow, not his blade. You have to figure where he's going to aim next."

"How can I know that?"

"Watch his other arm, his feet, his eyes, his body. Unless he's really an expert swordsman, and most men only think they are, somethin' about him will betray where he's aiming. He'll shift his weight, or raise the other arm to balance where the sword is going to go, or look at his target, or move his feet or do some other such thing. Watch for the hints."

"And then what?"

"You put your sword where his is going to be when he strikes. You're small and fast, and once you and that sword get to know each other better, it'll respond to you like lightning. You should be able to anticipate where he's going to strike and have your sword there before he can. Try again!"

He held up the cutlass, and Lizzie held up her sword. She watched him closely for any sign. He appeared to be frozen in place, until she caught a flash of eye movement as he glanced toward her left arm. She whipped the sword to her left and the cutlass bounced off of it. "Yes! That's exactly it!" Jack sounded sincerely pleased. "Again!" He took a stance, and again Lizzie watched him carefully. His left foot moved an inch as his weight shifted, and she brought the sword to a diagonal in front of her face, protecting her head as he slashed down at her. "Yes! Again!" Jack repeated the lesson several times, and each time Lizzie anticipated correctly where he was trying to hit.

Finally he called a halt. "I think you're catching onto that one. Let's try your attack now. Come and get me, love!" He gestured with his free hand and smiled.

Lizzie struck at him. He countered it easily. She struck again, and again he blocked her. He stepped back. "Lizzie, love, you're telling the whole world where you're going to put that sword each time you move. Now you have to try to think the opposite of what we were doing. When you attack, instead of guessing what I'm going to do next, you have to think of what you're _not_ going to do."

Lizzie frowned and raised her eyebrows at the same time as she pulled her chin back in an expression of complete confusion. "What?"

"Remember how you're looking for signs from me to tell you where I'm aiming? You have to try as hard as you can not to give those same signs to your opponent! When you think about swinging, you raise your left arm to balance yourself. You look right where you're aiming, and you lean forward before you swing. You might as well hold up a sign to tell me what you're going for next. Concentrate on hiding anything that will help your enemy. It's not easy but it's what a good swordsman works toward. Now try again, and remember what I told you."

Lizzie took a stance and looked at Jack's face. He was smiling slightly as he watched her, looking for the slightest hint of her intentions. She realized that when she looked at his eyes, her peripheral vision still let her see his arms and shoulders as well as his torso down to the waist. Never taking her eyes off of his, she struck quickly toward his free arm. He countered, but just a bit too late. His sword blocked the blow, but the swords met close enough to his body that her blade still bumped into his arm. Jack looked disconcerted for a second, but managed to say, "Good! Try it again!" He reset in preparation for another attack.

Lizzie looked at his eyes again, feinted to his left and then smacked him on the right arm with the flat of her blade. "Ow! That was way too hard! No hurtin' the instructor, wench!" He rubbed his arm and pouted. She apologized with words and expression. "I'm so sorry, I got too carried away! I promise I won't do it again! Can we try once more?"

Jack nodded and rubbed the arm one last time. "Yes! I can't let you get away with that!"

She watched his eyes. This time, instead of just using them as a reference point for her peripheral vision, she really looked at him, taking in the details. His eyes were smiling, though the rest of his face was a stony mask. She smiled sweetly at him and feinted again. He missed the block completely and she tagged his left shoulder with the flat side of her sword. She was very careful to not hit him as hard as she had the last time.

"What weren't you going to let me get away with, teacher?" She raised her eyebrows in mock innocence as she asked the question. Jack turned his head and narrowed his eyes so he looked at her out of the corners. He raised one eyebrow. "I think you're getting' a little too big for those britches, missy. Do you think you're ready for some sparring?"

"I think so!"

"Fine, then! Here's the match rules. Pull your punches, use the flats if you connect. First one who catches the other with what would be a disabling blow in a real fight wins. Are you ready?"

"I am, sir!" Lizzie smiled at him. _I may not really be ready for this yet, but it's certainly going to be amusing!_

"Then be on your toes, woman! I'm comin' after you!" He lunged at her. She blocked him just a tad clumsily, and they turned in a half circle around each other, each one watching for an opening. She watched his eyes, and noticed that he kept glancing at her feet, trying to glean where she would put her weight for a strike. She waited. The next time he glanced down, she struck, and tapped him on the upper arm.

Jack's response was quick. While she was still leaned into the blow, he smacked her on the opposite shoulder with the cutlass. It wouldn't have been a disabling blow, so the match continued. She jerked her sword back and struck his as he pulled away. He parried, and they began trading blows, the two swords ringing out like chimes. They fell into a rhythmic pattern as they parried and countered each other.

The men around the fire heard the swords clashing. Conversation stopped as all eyes turned toward the Captain and the girl, dancing with steel in the fire light. A few of the pirates began to draw their own swords before it occurred to them that they didn't know which one of the pair to defend. After a moment it became clear to the observers that the fight wasn't in earnest. Both Jack and Lizzie were wearing huge smiles as they feinted and dodged and countered blows.

The rhythm of the fight was steady; one, two, three, four, clang, clang, clang, clang. Mister Moore looked around for Buckner and his guitar. He caught Buckner's eye and began to clap in time to the beat of the colliding swords. Soon many of the men in the circle started clapping along. Moore picked up his fiddle and launched into a lively Irish reel, with the clapping men keeping the beat and the clashing of the swords providing percussion. Buckner joined in on the guitar. Phillip hurried over, out of breath from running across the clearing. He pulled his flute from his pocket, but it took him a moment to catch his breath before he could begin to play.

Jack grinned even wider when he heard the music. He picked up the pace of his movements to a double time rhythm, still in time with the music. Lizzie matched him easily; one and two and three and four and, clang-ca, clang-ca, clang-ca, clang-ca. Occasionally one or the other would get in a light blow to an arm or leg, but never anything that would end the match. They moved back and forward and around each other, slowly circling the bonfire. Both of them were breathing harder by now. Sweat trickled down their faces, making their skin glitter in the fire's glow.

"Are you ready to give in yet?" Jack said through a wicked grin. He spoke just loud enough for her to hear.

"No! You should know by now that I won't ever give in first. Why do you ask? Are you frightened of me?"

"I'm not afraid of _you_!"

"So what _are_ you afraid of then?"

"Of what might happen to me if I slip up."

"I got carried away and hurt you once already. I wouldn't hurt you again, not on purpose anyway!"

"Aye, there's the rub. You can't control what doesn't happen on purpose."

"You can't control everything. You told me so yourself just today. Do what you can and hope your luck will see you through to the end of it. That's the Jack Sparrow way, isn't it?"

Jack didn't respond. He concentrated on the swordplay.

The men all around them were enjoying the show. They shouted and applauded at the especially good moves, and hooted at the occasional bad ones. Some cheered for one or the other participant. "Come on, Cap'n! Show 'er who's boss!" "Go, Lizzie, give 'im what for!"

The reel came to an end, but without a break Moore slid smoothly into another faster song that was very syncopated. The swords returned to a fast steady one ee and uh, two ee and uh, three ee and uh, four ee and uh rhythm that kept the beat. Lizzie listened for a moment and recognized the song as one she'd often danced to as a child. She changed her movements to fit the syncopation; one pause pause uh, two ee pause pause, three e and pause, four ee pause pause.

Jack slipped up and Lizzie slapped him lightly on the upper arms with her blade three different times before he caught on and matched her blow for blow again. Moore and the other musicians began to play faster, as reels traditionally increased greatly in pace before coming to an abrupt stop. The swords were just blurs in the flickering light, still in perfect syncopated time to the music. Sweat flew from Jack and Lizzie. Just as the song ended, both of them slipped at the same instant. The flat of Lizzie's sword hit Jack's chest just as his hit the side of her neck.

They both cried "I win!" at the same time, and broke into laughter. Lizzie pulled her sword out of the way and fell against him giggling and gasping for air. He put his sword arm around her shoulder and pulled her forehead against his chest. She could feel as well as hear his heart pounding as he tried in vain to recover his breath while still laughing. "I think we'd… best call that one… a draw, don't you?" he said between breaths.

The men who'd been watching the match screamed and whistled in wild appreciation of the fighting demonstration they'd just seen. Jack pulled Lizzie over to his right, sheathed the cutlass and took a deep theatrical bow. Lizzie followed his lead. She sheathed her sword, took his outstretched hand and dipped a very formal curtsey. Dressed in trousers and tall boots, she looked thoroughly ridiculous.

The men laughed and roared their approval. Jack and Lizzie stood up. He leaned toward her and wheezed, "I don't know about you, but I need a drink!" She nodded agreement, still too winded to speak. Without releasing her hand, he led her toward the log they had occupied. Their mugs were still there, and the log was still vacant.

Jack let go of her hand. They both turned and dropped onto the log side by side, exhausted. Without even thinking about it, Lizzie relaxed her legs and let herself slide onto the ground so that her back leaned on the log. She listed slightly toward him, and rested her head against his knee. After a minute, she felt his hand on her shoulder. He gently nudged her with the knee. She raised her head, worried that she'd done something wrong. He slid to the ground next to her, landing with his arm around her. He squeezed her shoulder just the slightest bit, urging her toward him. She took the hint and leaned her head against his chest. She inhaled deeply, still trying to catch her breath. A strong and pleasurable shiver made her tremble for just an instant, leaving her feeling pleasantly dizzy and grinning like a fool.


	49. Chapter 49 Contests

_**CH 49 Contests**_

Lizzie felt something brush her forehead. It tickled. Before she could reach up to find out what it was, Jack rested his chin gently against her head. The braided, beaded bits of his beard had trailed across her skin. Lizzie's heart beat double-time with happiness. Being at his side, so close to him, felt wonderful, natural, right. And he had placed her there deliberately. Her huge smile never wavered.

They sat that way, not moving, not speaking, while some of the pirates danced the hornpipe or the jig to the next few songs.

Jack finally whispered to Lizzie, "I'm truly parched, love. I'm going to go get a drink. Bring you something?"

Lizzie replied, "Don't you move!" _Oh, now, that was just a bit __too__ forward, woman! Mind your tongue!_

She reached around on the log behind her shoulder until her fingers encountered her mug. She raised it into the air, and Renato appeared almost immediately. She reluctantly pulled her head out from under Jack's chin so she could turn to speak to him.

"Would you like more Port, Miss Elizabeth?" Renato already knew the answer.

"Yes, please! I'm quite thirsty after that lesson!"

"You did very well, if I may say so." He smiled at her like a proud parent, and took her mug.

As he turned to go, Lizzie stopped him. "Renato?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Would you be so kind as to bring a drink for my friend, Captain Sparrow, as well?"

"Of course! I am honored to serve anyone that you consider a friend. What may I get for you, sir? More beer, or more rum?"

Jack handed Renato his mug. "More of that other, burning water, was it?"

Renato looked at the mug and back at Jack. "You drank a _tankard_ of _cachaça_? And you're still upright? In Brazil, the men drink it like so—" he held his finger and thumb about two inches apart, "—in thimble glasses! If a man was to drink a tankard of _cachaça,_ it would put him in his grave! At least for a day…" He shook his head in amazement. "Are you sure you want _more_?"

Jack laughed. "The men in Brazil apparently don't know how to hold their liquor! I am quite certain I want more!"

Renato nodded and bowed slightly. "Very well…as you wish, sir!" He took Jack's mug in his other hand and set off across the clearing.

"Nicely done, love!" Jack said quietly. "I didn't really want to get up." Lizzie sighed happily and leaned against him again.

The band ended the song they were playing, and took a break.

Renato returned quickly with their drinks. He gave Lizzie her Port first, bowing as he did so. When he turned to Jack, he said, "I thought you might want to know that there are bets being placed on you and the _cachaça_, and the odds are not weighing in your favor. Be careful, sir!" He handed Jack the mug, bowed his head slightly and left.

Jack said, "They're betting against me? That's a waste of their money!" He raised the mug to his lips and drank deeply. Lizzie sipped her port in silence. She had a bad feeling about that _cachaça._

* * *

.

Mister Moore and the other musicians started playing again. As Lizzie heard the first notes of the song she had taught Jack so long ago, she burst out laughing. "You did teach it to them! You said you were going to, but I've never heard any of them sing it or play it! I thought you'd forgotten it!"

Jack looked around the clearing at his crew, who had all started to sing along, mugs waving merrily in time with the music. He put his mug on the log next to him and held out a hand to Lizzie. "They're playing our song. Shall we?" Lizzie was too surprised by his words to respond. Jack tried again. "Miss Swann, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"

That brought Lizzie back to the moment. "Miss Swann is away for the night. There's just me here, Lizzie. But I would be happy to dance with you, Jack." She set her mug down and gave him a brilliant smile. Jack stood up. Offering her his hand, he helped her to her feet.

Before she could prepare herself, he grabbed her around the waist and fairly galloped out into the clearing. She caught her balance and attempted to keep up with him. He let go of her and hooked an elbow into hers. They began spinning each other in circles and singing along just as they had that night on the island. Lizzie looked up into the cloudless night sky. The stars over the clearing were dancing and circling, sharing in her joy. By the end of the song, Jack and Lizzie were laughing with each other and at the memories of the last time they had danced to that song. Lizzie found herself hoping that tonight didn't end quite the same way.

When the pirate song ended, Moore led right into an English dance song. Lizzie looked up. She knew this dance, and it actually had rules. It was supposed to be danced in a line of multiple groups. Each group was made up of two couples who performed specific steps as they moved up or down the line. If done properly, every pair of dancers ended up dancing with every other pair in turn. When the music ended, everyone should be back where they had started. If a dancer mis-stepped, it threw everyone else off unless they could catch up with the music quickly.

The pirates and some of the other men fell into two lines, grouped off into fours, and began dancing. Jack and Lizzie got into opposite lines across from each other. As the song progressed, they wove intricately in and out, occasionally splitting off to dance with one of the others in the foursome of the moment, before the pairs all moved down the line in the direction they had started.

There was much laughter, as some of the men didn't know all the steps, others went in the wrong direction when it was time to switch groups, and occasionally a really drunken dancer would fall flat on his face or some other body part. Lizzie thought she saw Tobias in the mess. But she was too intent on making sure that she and Jack didn't end up in separate groups to be sure. By the time the music ended, there were several snoring obstacles passed out on the 'dance floor'. Not all of them were pirates.

Jack and Lizzie made it all the way through with only a few minor mishaps. By the time it was over they were both holding their stomachs from laughing so much. They stayed where they had stopped, trying to catch their breath. The rest of the 'dancers' slowly walked or crawled back to their drinks. Some of the survivors retrieved their fallen comrades from the field of musical battle.

Three of the Brazilian men made their way over to Mister Moore. They spoke to him and Buckner for a moment. Buckner nodded, and handed his guitar to one of them. The man with the guitar sat down, strummed a few chords and ran skillful fingers up and down the strings in a rapid series of musical scales to get the feel of the instrument. Then he nodded to his companions and began plucking out a repeating bass line in three count time that skipped and hopped across a single chord. After a few repetitions, he added a lilting rhythmic melody above the bass line. The song was fast and the rhythm complex.

Jack's eyes widened as he spun around to look at the performers. "Oh, yes…!" he murmured He smiled widely, caught the eye of the guitarist, raised one eyebrow and nodded to the man. He mouthed, "_Gracias, __señor_!". Then he turned to Lizzie and said, "Come here, love! Do you know the _galliarde_?"

She shook her head. "I've never heard of it!"

He took her left hand and placed it on his right shoulder. He held her other hand in his left and put his right hand on her hip. This positioned him directly in front of her so they were face to face, an arms' length apart. Lizzie whispered, "Jack! I've never danced like this! I don't know what to do!"

"Pay no mind, love! Just relax, stay close and let me lead." She stepped a little closer and waited for some sort of cue. Jack nodded his head in time to the music, and when he found the appropriate beat, he dove in, taking Lizzie with him. Jack began to move at the same instant that the two other Brazilian men began to sing an elaborate duet with the guitar accompaniment. Using his hands, Jack guided her movement by gently leaning into her or pulling her. That kept her upright, but her feet stumbled hopelessly. Lizzie tried to watch his feet to see if there was a pattern to the steps. That didn't help. He didn't seem to be following the music at all. The dance was too complicated. She couldn't keep up.

She finally closed her eyes and listened closely to the music as Jack tried to lead her in the dance. She recognized the language in which the song was being sung. It was Latin, but quite unlike the scholarly Classical Latin her tutors had tried to teach her. She could only understand a word here and there.

She leaned her forehead against Jack's shoulder, trying to pick up any cues that would help her to keep pace with him. The music and his movements suddenly made it clear to her. Jack's feet were moving with the difficult syncopated bass line, not the melody. She tapped her fingers on his shoulder to the odd rhythm. Her feet still needed cues to help her follow his steps. Jack murmured in her ear, "That's right, love! Get a little closer, you'll find it!"

She moved closer until her thighs began bumping into his. As he moved his leg forward, it pressed against hers, so she moved that leg backward. As he moved a leg away from her, she followed it with hers, maintaining contact. Following his lead this way, she fell into the steps easily. Jack whispered, "That's it, darlin'… just like that…" He shifted the hand on that had been on her hip around to her lower back and pulled her against him as they moved in intricate and intimate unison across the clearing. All around them men whistled, some in surprise, at the sensual, libertine performance.

Lizzie raised her head, but kept her eyes closed. Everything else faded away but the physical sensations of the dance; the slight buzz of the wine in her veins, his hot breath on her neck, her chest pressed against him, the hard, solid muscles of his upper arm moving beneath her fingers, his hand low on her back holding her hips tightly against his, their thighs touching as they moved. Above it all, the dizzying not-quite smell coming from him was almost overpowering at such close quarters. This dance put even the most vivid of her erotic dreams to shame by comparison.

Deliberately discordant notes clashed and resolved, teasing the ear of the listener until the chord resolution brought relief. The singers' voices soared to a crescendo with harmonies that alternately led and echoed each other. Lizzie became vaguely aware of Jack softly singing along near her ear.

"_Velut deus, vellent dii, quod mente proposui:  
ut eius virginea reserassem vincula."_

The song ended there, leaving them standing as close together as two people could be with clothing still intact. Someone in the crowd shouted, "Lucky bastard!" A few of the men applauded, but most of them just stared in stunned silence. After a few seconds' pause, the Brazilian musicians moved on to another song. Some of the men who had watched the dance slipped surreptitiously off into the woods by themselves to be alone with their thoughts.

Jack turned Lizzie around and guided her back to the log with his arm around her waist, keeping her close to him. They sat down and picked up their drinks. Lizzie felt dazed and exhilarated. She could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips as she held the mug of Port in both hands. She took a long drink, hoping the strong flavor of the wine would clear her head a little

Jack took another deep quaff of his _cachaça_, which nearly emptied his mug. He slid closer to Lizzie and put his arm over her shoulder again. She was still drinking, so she didn't lean into him immediately as she had before. He waited a few seconds, then slowly ran his hand all the way down her back, and then up to her shoulder again. The shiver that his touch provoked nearly made Lizzie choke on her Port.

She lowered her mug and turned her head to look at him. His eyes were much darker than usual, the deep brown obscured by the black of his enlarged pupils. He put his arm over her shoulder again, and pulled for just a second. She took the hint, and slid across the small space between them until their hips and thighs were touching. His arm drifted down until it was around her waist, his hand rested on her hipbone. She leaned against him and closed her eyes. He raised his mug to drink. After he swallowed, he whispered, "Oh, bugger." She guessed that the mug was empty.

She hesitantly sat up and raised her mug into the air, being careful not to dump the Port that remained in it over her own head. Renato appeared a moment later. "May I get you some more Port, Miss Elizabeth?"

"No, Renato, not this time. My friend the Captain needs a refill of…whatever you called that drink."

"He wants a _third_ tankard of _cachaça?"_

"Aye, mate. I do." Jack's voice sounded deeper than usual.

"Miss Elizabeth, this is not wise…" Renato's quiet voice sounded truly concerned.

"He's a grown man, Renato. _I'm _not going to tell him no!"

Renato said, "Very well then. I will return shortly." He took the mug, and quickly brought it back full of the Brazilian liquor. Jack took the mug without looking at him. "Thank 'e, mate." Renato bowed to Elizabeth and disappeared back to wherever he'd been.

Jack took a deep drink and sighed happily. "This is marvelous stuff! I need to look into getting some to take back with us!"

He leaned away from her just far enough that he could see her face. "Thinking about changing your mind, love?"

Lizzie was confused. She couldn't recall what they'd discussed last before that amazing dance, and they hadn't said anything to each other since. "Changing my mind about what, Jack?"

"I told you I wouldn't force a woman who wasn't willing, but you were welcome to change your mind at any time. I just heard you say you wouldn't tell me no. Has that time come?" His smile was full of hope.

Lizzie cast her mind back to the conversation with Renato. _Oh. Oh! THAT!_

"No, Jack, I'm sorry, but it hasn't."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment while he took another swallow of his drink. He set down the mug. "Lizzie, you're killin' me." He leaned toward her and brought his lips close to her ear. "You know I want you. And you can't tell me you don't want me too. The way you threw yourself into the dance just now told me clearer than any words. You can't dance the _galliarde _like that unless you're ready to completely give yourself over to your partner."

He ran the backs of his fingers sensually down her cheek, past her jaw and down her throat to her collarbone. She tipped her head back, and her eyes closed in response to the sensations. She inhaled and found herself holding her breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Lizzie, I can tell what you're feelin'. I can see it in your eyes. They're black as night with the longing. And I can smell it. It's not really a smell, it's more of a taste in the air. It's comin' from your skin, and it's as clear to me as perfume. After I first touched you tonight, your scent was on my fingers. But it's better than any perfume, because it's _you_. I've never felt anything like it before. And what it does to me…oh, Lizzie, you're drivin' me mad!" He sighed and nuzzled her earlobe gently.

Hearing him say that he could smell her too took her by surprise. She thought she'd done such a good job of hiding those feelings, at least until they had danced. But her traitorous body had given her away, apparently the same way his had. She slid away from Jack just far enough to be able to turn to face him fully. As she turned, his hand slipped from her far hipbone across her back, down her nearer thigh and stopped there. His fingers gently explored her leg until she put her hand across them to stop any further progression north.

Lizzie exhaled. Her ears were buzzing and her head felt light. Desire was as intoxicating as wine. She could barely breathe. Her voice was not much more than a whisper. "You're very, very much right, Jack. I won't lie to you about that. But the answer is still no." She shook her head, just a little.

Jack groaned softly as he leaned forward to whisper into her ear again. "Don't say no, love! Come back to m' cabin with me, Lizzie. I can guarantee that you'll have a very, very good time…" His fingers under her hand caressed her thigh as he brushed his mustache and lips against her ear and breathed into it, causing gooseflesh to form all over Lizzie's body. She inhaled sharply at the sudden, intense pleasure. Her turncoat mouth opened, ready to say 'yes'.

In desperation, her mind reached for her anchor. The picture appeared when bidden. As always, she was braced with sword at the ready. But the dark angel behind her stood upright, wings folded behind him, head turned to one side, and arms crossed over his chest with bare fingers clenched around his elbows. His face expressed displeasure -- at her? His entire demeanor indicated that he was not going to get involved. It was clear that in this duel, she was on her own. She uttered a faint moan. _… a fat lot of help..._

She forced her mouth shut and took a deep breath through her nose. The surprising change in the anchor scene provided just enough distraction. It helped her to regain enough control to pull her ear slowly away from those warm, inviting lips. Shaking her head to clear it only helped a little; she needed another moment before she could speak again.

"Jack, when I finally give myself completely to a man, I will have a guarantee of much more than just a good time, and that guarantee will be delivered in advance."

"What kind of guarantee?" Jack frowned as he sat up straight.

Lizzie held her left hand at arms' length in front of her. "There will be a wedding ring on this finger." She touched her ring finger with her other hand. "That guarantee will be for life, not just for one night of pleasure." She spun away from Jack and swung her legs over the log so they dangled off the opposite side from his. She continued to turn until she was facing him squarely, seated on the log in side-saddle fashion. Jack put one hand back on her thigh. She immediately covered it with her own to prevent it from wandering. Her heart was still pounding and she could feel how flushed her face was. She didn't want to be distracted like that again, not now, anyway.

"What about you, Jack? Have you considered changing _your_ mind yet?" Her voice was quiet and gentle, but firm. _It's past time for some honesty between us…_

"What about?" Now it was Jack's turn to be confused.

"Once upon a time, I slipped up and told you how I feel about you. Your response was to tell me quite clearly that pirates never have 'relationships', as you called them. But at least _some_ of your actions tonight certainly give me cause to think that this, " she gestured with one hand in the air, pointing at herself and him in turn, "is becoming one. Is it?"

Jack took his hand off her thigh. He looked at everything around him except Lizzie. He lifted his mug and took a long drink of the _cachaça. _He lowered the mug, thought for a moment, raised the mug and took yet another large gulp.

"Ah, Lizzie…it's like this…I…I…oh, bugger." He leaned toward her and his finger tips gently touched her cheek, putting them face to face, only inches apart.

"What, Jack?"

"I…" He leaned closer, until his mustache was tickling her lips.

Lizzie shut her eyes and waited. _What are you going to say?_

The tickle and the touch disappeared. She waited a few seconds more. She opened one eye just a little. Jack wasn't in sight. Both eyes opened wide. No Jack. She looked down. Jack was on his back on the ground, passed out cold, with his legs over the log and his nearly empty mug resting upright on his stomach, still gripped in his hand. The _cachaça _had won.

All around the clearing, men elbowed each other, pointed at Jack and held out their hands to collect payment.

Lizzie sighed sadly. "Oh, Jack…your timing is truly terrible." She finished her Port. As she stood up to leave, Renato appeared.

"Is there anything I can do, Miss Elizabeth?" He looked down at Jack. "I tried to tell him!"

Lizzie looked down at Jack and shook her head. "You can't tell _him_ anything. _He_ has to figure everything out for himself." She turned to Renato. "No, there's nothing more you need do for me tonight, thank you. But I don't intend to try to move him to the ship. If you could find some way to keep him from being eaten by something before he wakes up, I would be grateful."

Renato looked at the unconscious pirate Captain. "_If_ he wakes up… if he does, he may well wish that he hadn't." Then he nodded. "I will move my bedroll nearby and listen for animals."

"Thank you Renato. Good night."

"Pleasant dreams, Miss Elizabeth."

Lizzie took her mug and headed off toward the Pearl. Despite how the evening had ended, she was sure that her dreams would be pleasant tonight.

* * *

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A/N: Now can I keep my "M" rating? I promise, the story _will_ earn it…

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Reading the commentary below is optional. Don't let it intrude on your thoughts unless you're bored…

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… if you're bored now, I'm not writing any more.

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Music fan here. I thought I'd talk a bit about the music for "the dance". I took some serious liberties with it. Don't bother trying to find a recording. The melody I had in mind was _Zefiro torna e di soavi accenti _written in 1622 by Claudio Monteverdi, an Italian composer. Poke around the 'net if you'd like to hear it. There are clips in various places on the internet. If you read music, you can even find the musical score for it in a couple places. It's very pretty in its original version. In my story, the tune was longer, had no slow middle bridge, and was played much faster than originally written.

The lyrics and language were from a poem written in approximately the year 1230, part of a large group of earthy poems written in Medieval Latin and Middle High German. The group of poems, called _Carmina Burana,_ celebrated the pleasures of life. Some of these poems were later set to music in 1935 by Carl Orff in a musical suite of that same name. But certainly some of the poems must have been set to other music before Orff did so?

Go ahead, Google the song lyrics. There are lots of translations out there.

One of the more accurate ones is here: http :// web (dot) comhem (dot) se/hansdotter/carmina (dot) html

The lines I used came from song number 18, "Circa mea pectora".

Lizzie's tutors would have taught her Classical Latin, the spoken Latin dialect used by scholars. She would not have learned Vulgar (meaning: 'common people's' or 'peasants') Latin, as there was no one correct version of it. Vulgar Latin was different in each country in which it was spoken, as it was diluted and changed by the native tongue of that country. Lizzie would most likely have had little to no idea what Jack was singing in her ear.

I took a few liberties with the dance too. Don't bother looking it up. While still considered racy for its time, the original version of the _galliarde_ was a lot less interesting.


	50. Chapter 50 A Round of Cachaça

_**CH 50 A Round of **__**Cachaça**_

Tobias was enjoying the new sensations the alcohol brought to him. He was sure there was nothing he couldn't do. Tonight he was brave, and confident, and all the other things which he hadn't ever been any other time. Some of the men from the Pearl went out into the cleared area to dance the sailor's hornpipe. Tobias, normally a shy lad who didn't like to be the center of attention, hurried out to join them. Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other and shrugged. They clapped in time to the music and called out encouragement as Tobias, who had no idea how to dance, did his best to imitate the movements of his shipmates. He fell down a few times, but of course that was just his sea legs tricking him. He danced to several songs with his mates before returning to his beer.

When the band began playing the pirate song, he sang heartily, swinging his mug in time to the music. Halfway through the song he noticed that the mug was empty, and refilled it one more time with the sweet beer. When the pirates began falling into lines for the country dance, Pintel and Ragetti went out to join them. Tobias set down his mug and hurried after them. If the all men were going to dance this time, he wasn't about to be left out.

He tried to follow along, but he had never seen the dance performed before. He went the wrong way around the squares, tried to dance with the wrong partner at the wrong time, and more than once he turned the wrong way when it was time to change foursomes. It was entirely hilarious; Tobias had never laughed to hard or so long in his life. When it was his turn to partner with Miss Elizabeth, he smiled and looked right at her instead of blushing to the ears and ducking. He hoped he was making a good impression. He didn't notice that her eyes never left Jack.

* * *

. 

Nobody noticed the two missing Brazilians rejoin the group of revelers. They sought out their companions of earlier, and the band of men, greater in number than earlier in the evening, slipped off to the shadows to speak undisturbed.

* * *

. 

When the country dance ended, Tobias and his two comrades made their way back to where they had left their drinks. Tobias quickly finished the beer, which left him with an empty mug about the same time as Pintel and Ragetti finished theirs. Pintel said, "What say we try that Brazilian rum, eh lads?" Both Ragetti and Tobias nodded. All three went to the cask.

Pintel drew some into his mug first, sniffed it and made a face. "Rotgut!" he said just before he tipped the mug up. He coughed a little, thumped his chest with a fist and said "Ooooh, smooooth!" He tossed back another mouthful, and then another.

Ragetti drew just a little into his mug and belted it down in one swallow. His eyes opened wide and he made a face like he'd just been punched in the gut. He stood like that for a moment, contemplating the experience. A slow smile grew on his bony, scraggly face, and he pulled the tap on the cask to fill his tankard to the rim.

Tobias stepped up and drew some of the _cachaça_ into his mug. He smelled it. It didn't smell like rum at all. It smelled much stronger; the smell burned his nostrils. But if they could drink it, so could he. He tipped the mug up and took a healthy swig. He immediately spat it out all over the ground. It tasted as bad as it smelled, and the burn it left in his mouth put the sting from the rum to shame.

Pintel looked at him sympathetically. "It's an acquired taste, lad. If ye don't like it, we'll take it. No sense in it goin' to waste!"

Tobias felt like he had somehow failed a test. It wouldn't happen a second time. He held his breath and took another mouthful of the _cachaça._ He swallowed it before he let his breath out. It wasn't _quite_ so bad if he didn't get the smell of it first. It burned like fire, but that went away quick enough. He held his breath and took another drink, and then a third.

Suddenly it felt like someone stole the muscles from his legs, causing him to sit down hard on the ground. He was surprised to find himself looking up at Pintel and Ragetti. "How'd I get here?" he asked, somewhat unintelligibly.

"Where?" asked Pintel, looking around. He looked down. "Oh, there you are! I dunno!" He shrugged.

They heard guitar music, and then the two singers began the rapid syncopated tune of the _galliarde. _Ragetti glanced across the clearing and said simply "Lookit there!"

Pintel looked at where Ragetti was staring. "Who'da believed that, eh?"

Tobias, still on the ground, could see nothing past the bonfire which blocked his view across the clearing. "What's happenin'? What's it?" He pulled himself to his feet, using Ragetti as a crutch.

Once he was standing, he could see the Captain and Miss Elizabeth doing… something …in time to the music. It looked like the Captain was dragging her around by her arm and her waist. She appeared to be simply trying to keep her balance. As Tobias watched them, something about the dance changed. Miss Elizabeth began to dance too. Her body and her movements coalesced with the Captain's, and they moved sinuously as one to the music. All Tobias could say then was, "_Oh _my…oh _my_!"

From somewhere over his shoulder, he heard Pintel mutter, "It's like they're boffin' standin' up! Ooooeeee! I've gotta learn that step some time! Wouldn't 'at make me a popular one wif the ladies at the pubs?"

Tobias mumbled unhappily, "Oh well, at least this means Jacob won't have a chance with her either." He inhaled, tossed back another large swallow of _cachaça_, and watched the dancers with a mixture of envy and voyeuristic curiosity.

* * *

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When the Brazilians began to play, Phillip retreated to where he had left Gibbs sitting near the rum keg.

"How're you doin', Joshamee? Had enough of this yet, or are ye stayin' until the rum is gone?"

Gibbs yawned and looked up at him. "Me? I'm just fine! I may take a little nap in a while before goin' back to the ship, but…." His voice trailed off as he turned back to face the clearing. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Phillip by the front of his shirt. "Holy mother of God, Phillip, look at that!" He pointed to Jack and Lizzie dancing the seductive _galliarde, _oblivious to everything except each other. "Wightman, what're we gonna do? We can't let'im…"

Phillip removed Gibbs' hand from his shirt and considered the scene for a moment. "Joshamee, you said yerself just tonight that you didn't think she needed us to parley for her if Jack tried to sweet talk her into..."

He cleared his throat. "I believe yer absolutely right. I don't think she's gonna let it go that far. And…well, if she does, she _is_ a grown woman who can make her own decisions. She's not my daughter, nor yours. It ain't our place to step in between 'em if she doesn't ask us to. Remember the Code only protects women who're meddled with _without_ their consent. If she consents to 'im, she's on her own."

Phillip watched them dance some more and shook his head. "But if she does stop'im after _that_, 'e's goin' to be nigh impossible to deal with until they get things worked out between 'em…the whole crew may be in for a rough ride before that storm is over."

The dance ended, and he watched Jack and Lizzie return to their log and sit down close together. Trying not to look like he was overtly spying, Phillip kept an eye on the proceedings over the rim of his mug as he sipped his rum. Gibbs outright stared.

They both saw Jack lean over and whisper in Lizzie's ear. When she shook her head and pulled away from him, Gibbs whispered, "Good lass!" Both of them saw her raise her hand and point to her ring finger. The two men smiled at each other, nodded and knocked their knuckles together. When she turned around on the log, Phillip noticed Jack's look of consternation and murmured, "Give'im what for, girl!" He looked at Gibbs.

"See, Josh? She doesn't need us to defend her from 'im! Just like 'e told the crew that day, she's 'er own woman!"

Gibbs stifled a snort of laughter. Phillip turned back just in time to see Jack topple slowly over backward. "E didn't even get a chance to kiss'er first!" Gibbs cackled.

Phillip smiled. "A wise man said it best. 'Drink provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.' We needn't have worried at all, Josh. He undid 'imself!"

* * *

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The next thing he remembered was lying on the ground with Pintel and Ragetti leaning over him. "Are ye still with us, Toby'?" Tobias tried to nod, but he couldn't move his head very well. "Aye," he grunted. He attempted to sit up. Nothing happened. He finally rolled over onto his stomach and got up on his hands and knees. That was as far as he could go. His legs seemed to have forgotten how to work properly.

Pintel and Ragetti each took an arm and pulled him to his feet. "Think we oughta get'im back to the ship?". "I think so, " said Ragetti. "I think 'is clock is tickin' down. 'E'll be easier to move if 'e's still awake." They put Tobias' arms over their shoulders and began staggering down the stone road toward the Black Pearl, half dragging Tobias between them.

* * *

. 

At the bonfire, Phillip and Gibbs continued chatting and drinking rum. Gibbs noticed Pintel and Ragetti, hoisting Tobias between them. He pointed them out to Phillip. "Ah, that one's gonna be learnin' a lesson tonight!"

Phillip nodded. "Aye, it's one he'd learn sooner or later. At least here he's safe with no pickpockets or whores to rob him, and he's got some o' the other lads lookin' out fer 'im."

Gibbs agreed. "Those two are as odd as the good Lord ever made'em, and I wouldn't trust their loyalty to the Capn' fer naught if push came to shove. They're the only ones aboard who were part of Barbossa's mutiny against Jack. But they seem to have decent hearts, or at least they try to make it look that way. Did ye know the skinny one's the other's nephew?"

Phillip shook his head. "No. Really?"

"Aye. Pintel told me the story once. Seems 'is sister was a woman of ill repute who got 'erself into some trouble, if you get my drift. She birthed said trouble and the other whores apparently thought 'e was cute. So they kept 'im around and played with 'im like a pet. That is, until he hit about six or so. 'E started runnin' amok with other street urchins and got 'imself caught a few times. Then she saddled 'er brother with 'im because 'avin' the law bringin' 'er brat home all 'a time interfered with 'er work. Pintel had no other kin, so he raised the boy into the only thing he 'imself knew, piracy. Ragetti's never done a lick o' honest work in 'is life, the lucky sot! Anyway, I think the young lad's in good enough hands with those two. "E'll be alright!"

* * *

. 

A short distance after they left the light of the bonfire, Tobias suddenly jerked out of their grasp. He stumbled to the side of the road and was violently ill in the underbrush. Pintel looked at Ragetti and with a tone of fond reminiscence in his voice, said, "Ah, I remember my first time!"

Ragetti smiled as he nodded agreement. "I remember my first time too, just like it were yesterday!"

Somewhat less fondly, Pintel replied, "I remember your first time too…you didn't make it to the window in time. Three times in a row!"

When Tobias had recovered enough to move again, the older pirates took his arms and headed toward the ship. Twice more on the way, Tobias painted the bushes along the road. When they reached the Pearl, the ladder wasn't down. They stood Tobias on his feet to lighten their loads, but they kept a grip on his arms. Pintel called out, "Ahoy up there! You got some kind o' mutiny goin' on? Ain't you lettin' anyone come aboard?"

Mack came to the rail and looked down. "Oh, it's just you! Come on up!" He tossed the ladder over the side. "We 'ad a bit o' trouble earlier, thought it was best to lock 'er up tight until you lads started comin' back."

Pintel and Ragetti looked at Tobias, who was weaving in the non-existent breeze as though it was a gale-force wind. Both looked at the ladder and shook their heads. Without a word each one extended a hand made into a fist. "One, two, three…" Pintel counted, and both of them waved their fists up and down with the count. On the word "Shoot!", both their hands came forward, fingers extended in different patterns. Pintel held out his forefinger and middle finger in a "v" shape. Ragetti's hand was held out flat, palm down.

"Ohhhh…I never win!" he groaned, and hoisted Tobias over his shoulder. "Toby, if ye 'ave to spew again, hold it until we're aboard. I don't want it all down me back!"

Pintel went up the ladder first, and helped get Tobias off of Ragetti's shoulder as he reached the rail. The two of them hauled the nearly unconscious lad onto the ship and laid him on his back on the deck. Tobias opened his eyes and looked up, laughing. His eyes were not pointing in the same direction. He waved a hand airily above him. "I recognize the leaves on those tree branches! I know where I am!" He giggled loudly. "Are we at sea already? The whole ship's rockin' and spinnin'!" His face suddenly became serious, and then pale and pained.

Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other, and grabbed the boy by his shirt and legs. They flipped him over, slid him forward on his stomach and got his head between the rails and over the side of the ship just in time.

* * *

. 

It only took Lizzie a few minutes to walk from the bonfire back to the ship. When she reached the ladder, she was surprised to see a head hanging over the gunwale. When she got onto the deck, she could identify that the head belonged to a nearly unconscious Tobias. Pintel and Ragetti sat on the deck on either side of him. They both waved at her.

"Is that your doing?" she asked, pointing at Tobias.

"No, not really. We just offered 'im some, 'at's all! It's not like we held it to his lips and forced him t'drink it!"" Tobias raised his head and retched again.

"I'm glad he's on the starboard side and nowhere near where I'm sleeping. I don't want to listen to that all night long!"

Jacob came down from the quarterdeck laughing. "Oh, he'll never hear the end of this! He's always said he wasn't going to ever get so drunk that he got sick! I see how long _that_ lasted!" He noticed Lizzie and faltered. "Oh! Miss Elizabeth! Good evenin'! I didn't see you there. Is it true that you and the Cap'n are gettin' hitched?"

Jacob's voice cracked as he tried to be polite and not show his disappointment. He'd been brooding about Pete's and Mack's bet all evening. He had not considered the possibility that both of them could end up being wrong. Bets always had a winner and a loser. One of them had to be right, and he had decided in his mind which was the lesser of the two evils. As far as fourteen year old Jacob was concerned, it was the only way things could work out properly now.

Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other in confusion. " That sure ain't how I was thinkin' that dance was gonna end…" muttered Pintel.

Ragetti replied quietly, "Where is the Cap'n, anyway? I'd a thought 'e'd be wif 'er!"

Lizzie heard them. She paused for a moment, then her eyes narrowed in amusement. "Why don't you ask the Captain yourself, Jacob? Goodnight, boys!"

She crossed the deck to her alcove, humming to herself She was looking forward to those pleasant dreams.

* * *

. 

A/N: William Shakespeare, _Macbeth,_ Act II, Scene III


	51. Chapter 51 Death, With Birdsong

_**CH 51 Death, With Birdsong**_

The sun rose over the mountains and forests of Panama the next morning, and shone down upon the remnants of the previous night's celebration. Battered metal plates and wooden mugs lay strewn about the clearing, all around the smoking embers of the fire that had been built in the middle of the stone road. Monkeys and other small animals had stolen any scraps of food they could reach. The monkeys had also taken many of the plates and cups off into the forest with them.

Men were scattered across the scene in various positions. Some were sprawled face down in the dirt, others curled up as small as possible. Some were under trees, others under the open sky. Vultures perched on treetops near the clearing, waiting to see if anything was ripe yet. Every so often a man would rouse, look around, and slowly haul himself upright, moving slowly and unsteadily toward wherever he should have gone the night before.

Jack lay right where Lizzie had left him, on his back, legs propped up on the log from which he had fallen. The mug of _cachaça_ had been removed from his hand. The contents had been poured out onto an innocent forest plant that did not deserve such a fate, and the mug was placed where Jack should see it when, or if, he awoke.

Warm breath against his neck made him smile in his sleep. Gentle fingers touched his cheek and hair, and soft lips nuzzled his ear. He murmured, "Darlin', of course I still respect you…", and turned his head toward the owner of the lips. Jack's eyes flickered open. The startled monkey bolted for the nearest tree and was out of sight in a flash. "Wha…? Bugger! Must've been a bad dream…" His eyes closed and in seconds he was asleep again. Jack's mouth fell open, and the snoring that issued from therein should have brought the other sleeping men to wakefulness in a panic.

* * *

A small yellow and orange parrot perched in a nearby tree, observing Jack and the interesting noises he was making. Parrots are by nature curious creatures, and this one was no exception. It flew to the ground some distance away and gradually approached Jack, eyeing him with first one eye, then the other. It got close enough to reach the beads and other tempting shiny things braided into Jack's hair.

The parrot seized a beaded braid and pulled. The braid did not come off. The bird pulled on it again and again to no avail. It chewed for a moment on one of the charms that hung off a braid, and gnawed on a bead before being distracted by the other interesting objects in Jack's hair. None of those came loose easily either. It found a piece of leather cord that bound the end of one thin braid. The bird's sharp beak snipped through the leather easily, and the braid itself didn't last long after that. When it had chewed the braid through at about half its length, the bird soon became bored and dropped it on the ground before moving on to another target.

Up in a nearby tree, the rest of the parrots flock mates watched their young compatriot with interest. After a few minutes it was obvious that the creature on the ground posed no threat. A dozen or more of the flock flew down and began to play with and chew on Jack's hair ornaments, his rings, buttons, clothing, and anything else that caught their attention.

The flock's leader, a bird who had not lived to be as old as it was by being rash and foolish, flew down last after it deemed the situation to be safe. It landed on the ground and scaled the scarf covered mountain that was Jack's head. It climbed up to perch on his forehead, and peered intently down his face at the cavernous open mouth from which the snoring reverberated.

The noise fascinated the curious old parrot. It walked down onto Jack's nose to get closer to the source. It jumped off and landed on his shoulder. From there it scaled his clothing to get up to his chest. The nosy creature played with the beads braided into Jack's beard for a short time before using the braids as climbing ropes to reach his chin. The bird looked into Jack's mouth, where it spied many delightful new shiny objects.

It reached tentatively in and tugged on a gold tooth. Jack groaned and exhaled. The parrot took a wobbly step backward, fell over on its side and rolled off of Jack's chin onto the ground. The rest of the flock saw their leader fall, and responded the only way that parrots know how to respond to any situation, good or bad. They screamed as loud as they could.

The powerful, high pitched scream of just one small yellow and orange parrot is painful to the unprotected ear. The sound of over a dozen such parrots all screaming at the same time can cause temporary hearing loss. To a man who drank two and a half tankards of _cachaça _the previous night, the screams of more than a dozen of these little parrots right next to his ears would be an accurate simulation of feeling a sword being run through his head. Jack's first thought upon being brought to consciousness by parrot screams was that dying again was a very welcome option.

He tried to bring his hands to his ears but he missed and clapped both hands to the sides of his already aching head. As he moved, the parrots scattered in all directions, still screaming. The flock leader got shakily to its feet, shook itself, took stock of the situation and fled with the rest, screeching as it went.

* * *

Jack laid very still, eyes closed, until the pain in his ears subsided enough that he could move his head. He attempted to sit up. His legs, still hooked over the fallen log, interfered with the attempt. Instead of reaching an upright position, he lost his balance and fall over sideways. His feet slid off the log. It was then that he realized that his legs would not obey his commands. Having spent several hours propped up higher than his heart, they were completely numb. He curled up on his side and remained still until the blood began to flow back into his lower limbs. The intense buzzing, itching sensation as his feet came back to life was maddening. Finally his feet felt like his feet again.

He opened his eyes. The brilliant morning sunlight that peeked over the treetops and lit the clearing was immediately agonizing. His eyes shut in self defense. "Oh, bugger…" he growled.

He forced one eye to open just a crack. It began to water and fought to close again. Using his fingers, he held the eye open until it adjusted to the sunlight. Once one eye was open, it conspired with the fingers to make its partner suffer equally. Soon both eyes were open enough for him to take in his surroundings.

The first thing he saw was the mug, sitting about two feet away from his nose. "Oh! 'Ello, darlin'! At least you're here to greet me!" He stretched out an arm and reached for it. It was empty. Disgusted, Jack pulled himself up on one hip and sat upright. As he moved, the earth rocked beneath him and he dug his fingers in to keep from sliding around.

"I need some hair off the dog that bit me! That'll set me right. And where the bloody hell am I?" He didn't notice that he was speaking out loud to nobody but himself.

He took in the clearing, the smoldering logs of the bonfire, the mess of plates and mugs, and the occasional body on the ground. Memories of the previous night drifted back to him, very fuzzy recollections of…Lizzie. Sitting with Lizzie, talking, laughing… sword fighting? And drinking. He definitely remembered drinking.

He tried to look around quickly to see where she was. The world whirled randomly and he had to grab the ground again to hang on. "Stop doing that!" he mumbled. In a slightly louder voice he called out, "Lizzie? Are ya here? Where are you?" He got no reply, other than the calls of jungle birds in the trees above him and the intense pain in his head from the sound of his own voice.

Very carefully, Jack rolled onto his hands and knees. The next thing he noticed was his chewed off braid lying on the ground. "What the hell tried to eat me? Its aim was terrible, good thing for that!"

He pulled himself up onto the log. If he sat very still, nothing around him moved. He slowly turned around to look over the whole clearing, searching for any signs of Lizzie. She was not there. He didn't recognize anyone else, except for Gibbs over on the other side of where the fire had been. Gibbs was curled up on the ground near the liquor barrels, arms wrapped protectively around his mug, a blissful smile on his face. "Gibbs, I see ya over there. I hope you left me some!"

Jack stood up carefully, holding on to a tree to keep the world from trying that spinning trick again. His bladder made its presence known then, informing him that it needed his immediate attention. He took his hands off the tree to unbutton his trousers. The earth rocked wildly. He grabbed the tree with one hand, and that made it stop. He looked from the tree to the buttons on his fly. "I need three hands for this." Experimentally, he put his forehead against the tree trunk and lifted his hand away. The world remained still, although the tree bark didn't feel very good against his aching head. His uncooperative fingers managed to work the buttons. He glanced down. "Mind the boots, lad…" He shifted his feet. "Ahhhhhhh…" When he put himself back together, he had one more button on his trousers than he had buttonholes. "No matter, as long as they don't fall and trip me up!"

Moving from tree to tree like a child using furniture to learn to walk, he made his way around the clearing until he reached the barrels. He tried the rum keg first. It was empty. He made a face at Gibbs. " 'At's probably why you're smilin', y' old sot!"

Jack ignored the beer keg. "Me and beer, we never did get along. Now's not the time to try it again. But m' tongue feels like coconut hair. I hope this last one has something left. 's not good to swill down water after a night o' hard drinking. Makes a man drunk all over again, and makes him sick on top o' that."

He reached the barrel of _cachaça_, put his mug under the tap and turned it. The pale liquid flowed freely into the mug. Jack filled it, shut off the tap and gulped down the first mouthfuls gratefully. "Ahhh! That'll cure what ails me." Still holding onto a tree to keep the world still, he turned slowly to survey the wreckage of the party. At closer range he recognized a few of his men, but most of the unconscious on the ground were from Fritz's crew. He drank more of the _cachaça_ and felt the headache ease. "That's the way!" More _cachaça_ followed the last down his throat.

* * *

Jack became coherent enough to realize that if Gibbs was here, then he wasn't on the ship either, and that left no one in charge. "I've got to get back to the Pearl!" He refilled his mug with _cachaça_, and stumbled across the clearing to the stone road that led toward the ship. As soon as he reached a tree and grabbed it with one hand, the world stopped dipping and rolling like a dinghy on a stormy sea.

His head felt like it was made of bricks. It was sure to fall off because his neck couldn't bear the weight of it. And those bricks in his head were formed of solid, pure pain. Someone had filled his boots with lead shot, and his sea legs were worse then they had ever been before. He tottered down the road, holding gingerly onto his head with one hand to keep it upright. Occasionally he grasped a tree to steady the world again, and took another slug of _cachaça_ before moving on.

Suddenly Jack felt his stomach mutiny at being shaken once too often by his unstable movement, coupled with the insult of more _cachaça_ on top of what it had been forced to endure the previous night.

"Oh, sh…." He dropped the mug, staggered to the side of the road and grabbed onto a tree trunk with both hands to keep his balance as his disloyal body made it perfectly clear that _cachaça_ was never intended to be a breakfast drink. The instigator of the rebellion, his stomach, jettisoned all the _cachaça_, the rum, and his dinner from the night before. But it wasn't done there. It continued working its way back through time until it had tried to unburden itself of long-gone meals from several days earlier.

Jack wasn't too sick or too drunk to be surprised. When he could speak again, he mumbled to himself, "This _does not_ happen! Captain Jack Sparrow does _not _keck up his drink! Haven't been that sick since I was fifteen, the first time…" His narrative was interrupted by his stomach. It informed him that yes, Captain Jack Sparrow did indeed puke up his drink, it was going to happen more than once, and this time was going to be much less pleasant than that memorable earlier one.

When he could move his legs again, he shuffled slowly and carefully in the direction of his ship, using the trees near the road as support. He became well acquainted with several more tree trunks along the way, as his stomach expounded again and again on its opinion of his bodily abuse. Finally the Pearl finally came into sight. The ladder was still down. Several pirates were passed out on the ground around the bottom. Jack picked his way through them until he reached the ladder.

Just as he started to put a foot up, his stomach mutinied again. He muttered, "Can't let the crew see me like this…" and crawled underneath the carrier until the retching subsided. He hunched on his hands and knees gasping for breath for some time after his stomach had finished expressing its disapproval of his long-time cavalier treatment of its good friend, his liver.

When he had recovered, he returned to the ladder and started to climb, limbs shaking and head pounding with the effort required to pull his own weight up just twenty feet. By the time he reached the deck, he was pale and sweating. There were only a few men in sight, all of them sprawled on the main deck. Nobody seemed to be awake. He pulled himself aboard and slowly stood upright.

* * *

There was one sailor between him and his cabin. It took Jack a moment to realize it was Tobias, lying face down on the main deck with his head over the gunwale. "Ah lad, you've got my sympathy…" Jack said quietly.

"Good morning!" Lizzie's cheerfully perky voice came from behind him.

He turned around quickly and nearly fell out through the opening in the railing as the ship rocked wildly. He grabbed the rail and leaned against it casually as if he had intended to do that. Only his white knuckles gripping the rail for dear life gave him away.

"Mornin'…" His voice was about two octaves lower than normal.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked, perhaps a little too innocently.

"'m just fine!" He didn't meet her eyes as he answered her.

"Would you like some breakfast? Renato brought me eggs and toast and fried pork steak this morning! Wasn't that nice of him? He brought too much. I've got some left if you'd like it."

At the mention of food, Jack's mind and stomach began a contest of wills over which one had control of the body. All he could do was shake his head the slightest bit. Opening his mouth would have immediately conceded victory to the stomach. He stood up as straight as he could manage, willing his mind to win this battle. When he felt he was in charge again, he said through clenched teeth, "I had a long night last night. I'm goin' to take a nap." Speaking caused his head to throb even harder.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "Really? A long night? That must've been very interesting! Well then, have a nice nap. " She gave him her brightest smile and turned away, humming the tune from the _galliarde._

Jack heard it. "Wait! How do you know that song?"

Lizzie turned back to him, an incredulous look on her face. "I first heard it last night, when we danced to it."

It was Jack's turn to wear the incredulous look. He spoke quietly, trying to keep the pain in his head at a manageable level. "We _danced_ to the _galliarde_ last night? _We_ danced to _that song_? _You_ and _I_ danced to _that_? Together? In front of the _whole__crew_?"

"You don't remember?"

Jack shook his head harder, which aggravated the headache, and started another battle of wills between mind and stomach. Lizzie mistook his pained expression for something other than what it was.

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?"

Jack focused on his cabin door, judging the distance if he had to get there quickly. An incorrect answer to that loaded and primed question could mean a big explosion. His head was already throbbing, and contemplating how to diffuse the question safely made it hurt even worse.

Tobias raised his head and started retching over the side. The sound induced similar responses to issue from the other men sprawled around the ship, one by one. Jack's stomach decided to sing along to the tune. Jack clutched his belly. He turned from Lizzie and dashed to his cabin and the privacy of the chamber pot inside. Lizzie was left staring at his unsteadily retreating back.

She sighed and withdrew to the fo'c's'le, where it was a little quieter. She hoped that the crew was recovered by lunch. They had completely spoiled her appetite for Renato's lovely breakfast with their visceral concertos. She planned to eat lunch on the ground to get away from them. Renato had informed her this morning that he would be bringing her three cooked meals a day until they parted ways. She sat on the fo'c's'le hatch and stared at the door to Jack's cabin. _Jack, I really wish you would just answer my questions without finding ways to disappear…_


	52. Chapter 52 Reflections

_**CH 52 Reflections**_

Lizzie lay back and stretched out on the fo'c's'le hatch cover. She had awakened in an extremely good mood, but Jack's inability to recall events of the previous evening had quashed much of it. _Will he recall any of it?__Everything was so perfect before we danced…_

She folded her arms behind her head and watched the clouds float by overhead. The intensely heightened senses she had enjoyed the previous day had returned to normal, leaving her feeling almost numb with only the usual abilities of her senses at her disposal. The sky was blue, the clouds were white, the trees were green, and there was nothing special about any of it. What did remain with her from the day before was intense relief at still being alive. Her thoughts drifted as she considered the events of yesterday.

…_He… Juan… _She forced herself to use his name, and shuddered. …c_ould have easily killed me either on the shore or in the boat. Jack was right, I fought badly yesterday. The outcome was pure luck. I hope the fighting lesson Jack gave me stays with me when I need it again. I wonder if he'd work with me some more… Do I dare ask him? _

_Dare I even get near him again? I fought badly last night too. I almost gave up that battle with barely any fight at all. If he recalls anything about last night, he'll know. If he asks me again… I'm not at all sure what I would do._

_Why do I even care about it anymore? Who would think any worse of me if I did… that? If I'm going to Hell for anything, it will be for killing a man. What's yet another sin on top of that? I doubt the crew would give a fig if I…bedded Jack. But what would Jack think of me? I'm sure he'd appreciate me at the time, but after? Once he had got what he wanted from me, would I lose my appeal? How long would I remain 'the Captain's wench'?_

_What would I think of myself if I let him take me to his bed unmarried? I've followed my principles all this time, so I can give myself to the man I truly love on our wedding night. Jack's everything I could want—smart, handsome, funny, talented, he even seems to be surprisingly well educated --- I know he's the one. I could be happy with him forever, despite his questionable choice of careers._

_But… he doesn't feel the same way about me. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. Last night, for a while before that galliarde music started, he acted like perhaps… but then… and what was he going to say? He seemed afraid of something, but I don't know what it could be. I can't begin to guess what's in his head! Or what's in his heart, if anything… And today he can't remember anything. If he has any feelings for me, I would think he'd remember __that__ at least!_

_If I give myself to him I'm sure I will regret it. Once it's done I can't take it back. I'd best wait and hope that someday I will meet someone I can trust completely, someone who really loves me and doesn't just desire me… which leads me back to having to leave the ship… and him._

A single tear rolled from the corner of each eye down her temples and into her ears. Lizzie curled up on the hatch cover, closed her eyes and fought to keep from bursting into sobs. She tried to force herself to relax, deliberately not calling upon her anchor image. The angel had failed her last night. She didn't want to see him just yet, if ever again. Lizzie laid on her side with her face buried in her hands. Her muscles were tight and her lungs hurt with the effort of not crying. The sounds of her own sniffling muffled the soothing low hum that issued from the hull of the Pearl. But the hum accomplished what Lizzie could not, and soon she relaxed and fell asleep in the morning sun.

Nobody was performing the important task of turning the half-hour glass, so the ship's bell did not ring every half hour to announce the time. When Lizzie woke again, the sun was not yet directly over head. She began re-examining what she had been considering before she fell asleep, but she forced the thoughts out of her mind. _There's no point in going over that again. Nothing is going to change. _

She made herself think of something else. _Renato said he'd bring lunch between noon and twelve-thirty. I wonder what time it really is. _She was quite hungry, and the thought of food made her mouth water.

She sat up and looked around the deck. Only a few of the pirates had moved. Those that had gotten up must have gone below deck to their hammocks, as nobody was moving about except her. Lizzie got to her feet and walked softly down the steps, across the deck and up onto the quarterdeck. Inside the binnacle box near the helm was a set of navigational instruments, from which she took out a compass and a small sundial.

Setting the sundial so that it faced north, Lizzie checked the time shown by the shadow of the vane in the center. She estimated that she had slept for about three hours. If she had read the sundial correctly, Renato would be coming in about a half hour. She returned the instruments to the box and sat down with her back against the base of the helm. She gazed at the river and lake behind the ship, hoping that soon they would be out of sight.

She heard a door open and shut again. Her heart leapt at the sound. There was only one door on the main deck, the one that led to Jack's cabin. It was directly below where she was sitting. Lizzie rolled onto her stomach and crawled forward until she could peer down at the deck below the helm rail. All she could tell from above was that Jack was walking better than he had been earlier. Just then Tobias moaned. Jack looked around the deck for the source of the sound and shook his head. She heard him murmur, "Oh, lad…"

Jack went to Tobias and knelt by his side. He rolled the boy over on his back. Tobias was unconscious. Jack effortlessly lifted the boy in his arms and carried him to the shade alongside the quarterdeck steps. He set Tobias down on the deck and carefully brushed the boy's sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. Lizzie watched from above. Her eyes widened at the very paternal gesture made by the very un-paternal Captain.

Jack said softly, "You just hold on. I'll be right back with somethin' to help you." He went into his cabin. Lizzie lay very still, waiting to see what would happen. Jack returned a few minutes later carrying a small cup of something. He knelt beside Tobias and gently shook his shoulders to wake him.

Tobias opened his eyes, winced and clenched them shut. "Ohhh, Cap'n. Just kill me. Please?"

Jack laughed quietly. "No, not today. It's part o' your education, Toby. What'd you drink last night?"

"Everything, sir."

"Ah. I thought as much. Did that myself a few times…"

Tobias opened his eyes a little and said as firmly as his shaky voice could manage, "I swear, I will never, ever do this again!"

Jack laughed again. "Oh, so you've learned that pledge already, have you? Doesn't take long to learn those words, but it takes a lot longer to learn to follow'em. Here lad, drink this. It'll make you feel better." He helped Tobias sit up against the steps so he could drink.

Tobias took the cup. "What's it, Cap'n?"

"A remedy given to me by an old friend. Some say it's voodoo. I don't care what anyone calls it. It works. It tastes like bilge water, but fight to keep it down. Drink up! It'll help."

Tobias took a sip and made a face. He started to gag.

"No, lad, fight it!" Jack put a hand on Tobias' shoulder and squeezed in empathy. Tobias made a mighty effort and quelled his stomach's rebellion. "Now drink it all, fast, and hold it down like you just did."

Tobias held his breath the way he had done to drink the _cachaça, _and tossed back the cup of liquid. He gagged again, and squeezed his eyes shut so tight that tears leaked out as he fought the urge to heave it all back up. After a minute his face relaxed. A few moments later he opened his eyes. "Cap'n, my stomach feels better already!" He smiled weakly at Jack.

Jack smiled back. "You'll still feel poorly for a couple hours, but you'll improve a lot faster than you would have without it. You shouldn't be getting' sick again, at least. Best thing is to go sleep somewhere dark and quiet for a while. My guess is that nobody's movin' around below decks much about now…might be best to just go to your hammock."

"Thank you, Cap'n! I really thought I was goin' to toss up all my insides! I just couldn't stop--"

Jack interrupted him, speaking quietly. "A word of advice, next time you go on shore leave. Don't mix your spirits. If you get in deep with one, stay with that one. Come to think of it, that might apply to women too…" His voice trailed off as his thoughts did the same.

"Miss Elizabeth? Are you up there? The sound of Renato's voice brought Jack's head up. Lizzie slid back from the helm rail and stood up slowly, pretending she'd been asleep up there. She stretched and yawned. "I'll be right down, Renato!" She started to descend the steps.

Jack turned back to Tobias and spoke in a louder voice. "Now get up off this deck and go tend to yourself, sailor! I can't have everybody lyin' about like there's no work to be done on this ship!" His tone was commanding, but he winked at Toby as he spoke. He gestured almost imperceptibly with his head toward Lizzie, who was passing by right behind him. He held out a hand and helped the boy to his feet. As Toby headed toward the hatch, Jack squeezed the boy's shoulder just once.

* * *

Lizzie went down the ladder to the ground to meet Renato. He was carrying a box which contained covered bowls. They walked some distance from the ladder and the few men who remained on the ground near the bottom. Renato found a flat boulder and used that as an impromptu table. He set out the food and silverware, and then produced a glass and a bottle.

"What's in that, Renato?" Lizzie asked, pointing at the bottle.

"Fruit juice, Miss Elizabeth," he replied while filling the glass. "I found some jungle fruits this morning, and they produced just enough juice for one person. Enjoy!" He set the glass next to the dishes. Lizzie sat on the ground by the boulder and uncovered the dishes. There was hot spiced rice and beans in one dish and pork stew in the other. "Renato, this looks wonderful! Thank you! But you really don't have to do this…"

"We talked about this already, Miss Elizabeth." He smiled at her. "I will soon see my daughter again, and that will be possible only because of you. Please accept my gratitude and my cooking while I am here. I will only be with the caravan for a few more days. When we reach the road that leads to Portobello, that is where I will leave you to go to my daughter."

"You can walk to Portobello?"

"Yes! The road splits at the last foothills before the ocean. The old Spanish road goes northeast to the city. It is only four, maybe five miles from the split to the city. But Portobello city officials protested the idea of ships passing through the harbor without paying docking fees or unloading cargo. So Juan hired the son of the Mayor of Portobello to lead part of his crew. The son greased the proper palms which allowed Pardal to build another road that goes straight to the sea. He had his own ramp and dock built at the bottom. When the caravan reaches the point where the road divides, I will go to the city, and you will go on to the Atlantic."

Lizzie nodded. "How far is Portobello from the ramp and dock?"

Renato thought for a moment. "It is a bit farther, maybe seven or eight miles along the shore. There is a rough cart track there. A long walk to be sure, but not impossible."

"That's very interesting. Thank you!" Lizzie took a bite of the rice, then of the stew. Both were delicious, and both were soon gone. Renato smiled with pleasure to see her enjoy the food. When she was finished, she took a sip of the juice. She could taste mango and maracuyá. The flavor of maracuyá made her think of the evening she dined with…him…and then the events that came later. She lowered the glass.

"Is there a problem, Miss Elizabeth? Is the juice not good?" Renato had seen the unhappy look that crossed her face as she drank.

Lizzie looked at the glass. _Am I always going to let unpleasant memories ruin everything I enjoy? At the rate that I've been acquiring bad memories lately, soon I won't have anything left to enjoy. Bad habit, best to be rid of it…_ She sighed and forced a smile.

"It's just fine, Renato. Here's to a better life for all of us!" She lifted the glass briefly in salute and drank deeply.


	53. Chapter 53 Plans and Perplexities

_**CH 53 Plans and Perplexities**_

Renato took Lizzie's dishes and returned to the camp. Lizzie climbed the ladder up to the Pearl's main deck. She wasn't sure what she should do with herself. Nothing on the ship was running on any kind of schedule. The time was still not being rung, nobody was working on anything, and some of the men were still passed out on the deck or on the ground near the ship. Jack was nowhere to be seen. She sat down on the quarterdeck steps and leaned against the rail.

_Portobello is only a few hours' walk from the road… It's a port city. I could find passage on another ship there. Jack is going to have to divide the gold among the crew sooner or later. I could ask for my share, and go with Renato. _

_Oh…I can't. I negotiated the deal with Fritz and his crew. I should stay to see it through, to make sure they are paid accordingly when the Pearl is in the water. If I leave before then, it might break the deal. I do want to see the ship get back to the ocean. There it is! I can remain ashore when the Pearl launches, pay Fritz when she's safely afloat, and then walk to Portobello along the shore trail._

Having a plan in mind made her feel both better and worse about her decision to leave.

A shout came up from the ground. It was Fritz. 'Captain! Have any of you survived? I think your rum killed some of my men!" He laughed as he spoke. "We are preparing to hook up the mules and begin moving! You should gather your men, or at least get them out of the road!"

Jack rose to his feet from where he had been sitting behind the aft mast and walked to the rail. "Aye, some of us are still standing! I'll see what I can do to get the rest of the crew aboard!"

Some of the Brazilians who had come with Fritz looked up at Jack in amazement. "He should not be alive after drinking that much _cachaça_! How is it that he is still walking and talking?"

Jack heard them and smiled. "Practice, mates! Lots and lots of practice!"

* * *

Jack looked around the deck below him. Lizzie was the only conscious person visible. "Miss Swann, go down to the clearing and see if you can get the rest of the crew on their feet! Kick'em if you must, but get'em back here."

Lizzie winced at the formal name he used. "Yes, Captain Sparrow! Immediately, _sir_!" She didn't see him squint his eyes when she replied. She went down the ladder and walked briskly to the clearing.

When she arrived, the only men still on the ground were Gibbs, Moore and Buckner. She remembered how bad her hangover of a few weeks back had felt, and tried to be quiet as she woke the men. When she got near enough to Moore, she whispered, "Mister Moore! Get up!" Moore didn't move. "Psssst! Mister Moore! Time to get up!"

The hissing sound brought Moore to full consciousness. He shot to his feet, reaching for his sword. She jumped back out of reach. "It's just me! Captain wants you back at the ship." Moore relaxed and the color came back to his face. He looked around for his fiddle and bow. When he had found them, he tucked them under his arm and left without a word.

Buckner was harder to wake up. Still asleep, he was having a conversation with someone. The words were unintelligible, but he was vehement about whatever he was saying. He sounded angry and his hands were clenched into fists. He ignored Lizzie's voice, even when she finally shouted his name. Lizzie was afraid to try shaking him. She cast about and found a tree branch that was as long as she was tall. She used it to poke him in the side. He took a swing at the unseen enemy that had touched him and mumbled, "Arm yourselves! They're comin' aboard over the rails!" It took her several more pokes with the stick before he finally opened his eyes. "Oh, bloody hell!" He looked from side to side frantically.

His eyes focused and he recognized Lizzie. A big sigh escaped him. "Oh, it's awright then. What time is it?" As he stood up, his joints appeared to be stiff. "I'm too old to be sleepin' on rocks!"

"Past noon. Captain wants you back at the ship."

"I'd expect so!" Without another word, he picked up his guitar, which the thoughtful Brazilian guitarist had left near his head, and followed the road toward the ship.

Gibbs was the last to be roused. He still laid curled on his side, hugging his mug. Lizzie walked up behind him. "Mister Gibbs! Time to get up now!"

Gibbs stirred but did not wake. "Just another five minutes, Mary!"

"No, you have to get up right now. The Captain needs you at the ship."

Gibbs was instantly awake and alert. He clambered to his feet, still holding onto his mug. His back was to Lizzie. "Where is everybody?" He looked around the clearing. "Why didn't they take the mugs back to the ship with them? Somebody's got to pick up all o' these!"

Behind him, Lizzie cleared her throat. Gibbs spun around. "Oh! It's you!"

"Yes, it's just me. Who's Mary?"

Gibbs smiled a little sadly. "That was m'wife. She crossed over several years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks. It's been a long time, but sometimes she still comes to me in m'sleep. Nags me just as if she was still alive…"

"Captain wants you." Lizzie said, trying to change the subject.

Gibbs nodded and glanced at the sun. "Aye. Speaking o' that…" he cleared his throat. "It's not really my place to say anything, but yer a good lass and I don't want to see you get hurt. You were playin' a dangerous game with the Cap'n last night. You're both walkin' on a thin line and if one of ye falls the wrong way it could end badly. Just be careful."

_Oh no! I got so carried away that I never gave any thought at all to who might be watching us… _Lizzie didn't know how to reply, so she said nothing. Gibbs patted her shoulder once. "How many o' these mugs do you think you can carry?"

* * *

Gibbs and Lizzie turned toward the Pearl, arms laden with wooden mugs. A voice from overhead said, "Hey! Don't leave me up here!" They looked up to see Marty sitting in the crotch of a tree about seven feet off the ground.

"How in blazes….?" began Gibbs.

"I dunno. Last I recall, I was lyin' back against a tree enjoyin' my rum and listenin' to the music. I woke up here."

"So jump down!" said Gibbs.

"You jump off of something that's over twice your height and see how it feels!" Marty snapped. "Some help would be nice…"

Lizzie set down her armful of mugs and looked around. Spying the barrels, she tested the weight of each and found that she could move the empty rum keg. She pushed it to the ground and rolled it to the tree where she stood it on end and climbed onto it. Standing atop it put her shoulders just high enough that Marty could reach them. It was quite a balancing act to step down off the keg with the dwarf, who was much heavier then he looked, standing on her shoulders and hanging onto her head. She got both feet on the ground before she lost her balance and fell backward, landing on her rump. Marty jumped clear and rolled a few times when he hit the ground. He stood up and put both arms out dramatically.

"Back to earth! Much obliged, Miss Elizabeth!"

Lizzie dusted the boot prints off the shoulders of her shirt and the dirt off the seat of her pants. "You're welcome. Next time you go to an affair like this one, bring along an anchor! Better yet, wear it!"

Gibbs snorted. "Help pick up these mugs, you two. We'll be needin' 'em in the galley!"

Soon the three were back at the ship, all carrying several wooden mugs in their arms.

Someone had roused the men who had passed out on the ground, and they were all on the deck. Miraculously, nobody had fallen off the ladder on the way up. Lizzie called out, "Someone catch these!" She tossed a mug toward the deck. Someone did catch it, so she tossed another. Soon she, Gibbs and Marty were all flinging mugs up at the ship. Some of them were caught. Some bounced off of pirates or fell to the deck. When their hands were finally empty, they all climbed aboard and Gibbs pulled up the ladder. The pirates on the deck clustered around Gibbs as soon as Lizzie walked away.

A short while later, the mule teams began to arrive. Jack set about putting the ship to rights by getting the time watch ringing again. It was half past two by the time they were ready to move the carrier. Fritz came back and climbed into the mule driver's seat. He spoke loudly. "Captain! We won't quite make it to our intended stopping point tonight, but I hope to be able to make up some of the lost time." He cracked the whip and the mules began to move. Soon Lagos Alajuela and the Chagres river were out of sight behind them.

Fritz drove the mules a little harder than Juan had. When they stopped to rest the animals, his men moved faster than ever before. They brought buckets of water to the mules two at a time instead of one, and the caravan was rolling again much sooner than anyone aboard the ship had expected. Lizzie smiled. She wanted to get to the sea as fast as possible. Jack frowned. The faster they got to the sea, the more he would have to pay them.

* * *

Jack caught Gibbs' eye and gestured for him to come up to the helm. When Gibbs arrived, Jack said quietly, "Did you have a good time last night?"

Gibbs frowned at Jack. "Aye. Why are ye askin' me?"

"How long were you there, I mean, awake?"

"I'll say it again. Why are ye askin' me?"

Jack held up a hand, thumb and forefinger close together but not quite touching.

"I need just one small, trivial piece of information. Did _I_ have a good time last night?"

"You don't know?"

Jack shook his head. "Sadly, no."

"What's the last thing ye remember?"

"Drinking."

"Before that?"

"Sword fighting with Lizzie, I think, but I must have imagined that."

"Nope."

"Oh… Did we, I mean Lizzie and I, did we dance?"

"Aye."

"Just piratey dances, right?"

"Oh, no, not _just_ piratey dances."

"Oh, bugger…"

"Aye..."

"What happened after that?"

"If you don't remember, maybe you should ask her."

"Ask her…?" Jack looked like he'd been shot.

Gibbs had to look away for a moment to reset his slipping expression of seriousness before turning back to Jack.

"Aye. She'd be the one to know." Gibbs stopped, assumed a thoughtful look and snapped his fingers as if he'd just recalled something. "Oh! Soon's I came aboard, I heard from the lads that you and Miss Elizabeth are getting' hitched. The whole ship is talkin' about it. Is it true?"

At that, Jack looked like he wished he'd been shot.


	54. Chapter 54 Muddled and Misreckoned

_**CH 54 Muddled and Misreckoned**_

Jack's mouth gaped like that of a fish out of water. He stared at the air between him and Gibbs with wide, serious eyes. "Gibbs, tell me you're joking! I didn't… did I? Tell me I didn't…"

Gibbs shook his head. "No joke, Cap'n. The men started asking me straight away when I stepped off the ladder. Whether ye did or whether ye didn't I can't say. But they want ta know. And I think there's money ridin' on it."

Jack sank cross-legged to the quarterdeck and put his head in his hands. "Gibbs, I'm ruined! The crew'll think I've gone soft!""

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Why is that? Men fall in love all the time."

"I'm NOT in— I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! I don't… I just don't, that's all!"

"Fine then, don't! Doesn't matter to _me_ none at all. But I'd think you'd best find out what ye did or didn't do last night first."

"Kill me, Gibbs. Just shoot me where I stand, er, sit."

"I don't think so, but thank ye fer the offer, Cap'n. If I did that the men might elect me the new captain. I don't wanna work quite that hard." Gibbs winked at Jack. "Besides, it might not be as bad as ye thought." He turned away and went down the steps, leaving Jack slumped on the quarterdeck.

"_It_? _Which_ it?" Jack asked Gibbs' retreating back.

* * *

. 

Several of the crew asked Lizzie if the rumor they'd heard about her and Jack was true. Her response was always the same: a small almost-smile, and 'ask the Captain'. _If he won't answer my questions, maybe he'll answer theirs. _But none of the men had the nerve to ask Jack about it directly.

Lizzie sat on the stairs while she cleaned and polished her sword. It hadn't taken a single nick from sparring with the cutlass the night before, but it did have smudges and sweat spatters on the swirled steel blade. She pondered the sword's history again while she shined it until it gleamed in the sun. _Who owned you before me? How did you get here? And why does Jack seem to recognize you?_ She had a brief image of beardless Jack, hair tied back in a queue, holding the sword. She shook her head. _No, you couldn't have been his. I'm sure he would have claimed you when he saw you again._ A flash of the dark angel holding the sword in his hand came to her and was gone just as fast. _Oh dear… First the ship talked to me. Now the sword is too, and I've answered them both. _

Satisfied that the sword was immaculate, Lizzie polished the scabbard and belt, and sheathed the sword. As she stood to buckle the belt around her waist, Jack came out of his cabin. He saw her and made a full turn right back through the cabin door. It closed behind him. Lizzie climbed a few steps higher, putting her out of the line of sight from the door. A moment later, the cabin door opened. Jack peered out, looked all around, and then stepped out of the cabin and closed the door. He headed toward the galley.

When he was halfway across the deck, Lizzie cleared her throat. Jack spun his head toward the sound so fast he nearly tripped himself. His eyes widened at the sight of her. He focused on his heading and increased his pace until he reached the safety of the galley's open doorway.

Lizzie's brows furrowed._ Is he avoiding me because of what the __crew__ thinks is happening? Or is it because of what __he__ thinks happened? Or…is it because of what __didn't__ happen? Should I set him straight or let him wonder? I suppose I should at least find out what he believes._

She moved from the steps to the main mast, and sat down against it, facing the galley. Jack would not be able to get to either the helm or his cabin without passing within a few steps of her. She saw him peer out of the galley door and disappear again. And again. And again. Lizzie lost count of the times he peeked around the door frame.

Fritz shouted, "We'll stop here for the night!" The caravan halted, and the usual commotion surrounding the unhitching of the mules began. Shouting on the ground drew many of the pirates to the rail. A mule had taken a kick at a careless handler and had knocked the man flat on his back. During the distraction, Jack shot out of the galley and down the fore hatch steps like a rabbit running to a burrow. Lizzie remained where she was. A few minutes later she heard Jacks voice waft up from the aft hatch, directly in front of her. "Oh, bugger!" His head poked up from the hatch opening, facing away from her.

"Miss Swann, don't you have some important work to do somewhere on the fo'c's'le? Or the bowsprit?" His head retreated back down into the hatch.

Confusion was evident in Lizzie's voice as she replied, "No, _Captain_, I've got no assigned duties at the moment. I'm just enjoying the evening."

"Well…..go polish the bow rail. I'm sure it's dusty or something!"

Lizzie got up and covered the distance from the mast to the hatch in four steps. Jack was sitting on a step halfway down the hatch ladder. He looked up when her shadow fell over him. His expression reminded her of a child who'd been caught stealing sweets. She kneeled on the deck and leaned over the hatch opening.

"Didn't I give you an order?" Jack asked her.

Her voice was quiet. "Yes, you did. I just have one question first. Why are you hiding from me?"

Jack's boots appeared to become the most interesting things he had ever seen.

"I… I don't care to discuss it."

"Oh. I see. No, I don't see, really. What exactly don't you care to discuss? Me? You? What happened last night?"

At her last words, Jack's head tipped up and he stared at her, unspoken questions in his eyes.

"Ah, that's it, isn't it? You don't want to talk about last night! I should have expected this. I'm to just forget all about it and pretend it never happened. That's what you want to hear. Well, fine! If that's what you want, then here it is. Nothing happened last night, _Captain_. Nothing at all. And it certainly won't happen again."

Jack's expression betrayed a hard verbal punch to his gut. "Lizzie?" he said very softly. "Whatever I may have promised or agreed to last night, it wasn't me talking. It was that… Brazilian rotgut."

"So you're worried about your words. What about your actions? Did the drink take control of those too?"

Jack looked at his fascinating boots again. He sighed deeply. "I… I don't recall a whole lot about last night…" he admitted in mumbled tones. "What did I do? What did… we… do?"

"It really would serve you right if I didn't tell you. In fact, I don't think I will. I'm going to go follow orders and polish the bow rail, _Captain_." She stood and strode away. She heard a muffled groan issue from the hatch. "Oh, bugger…"

* * *

. 

Lizzie fiercely polished a section of the bow railing until it gleamed like new. She was interrupted by Renato bringing her supper. He had brought her spiced meat baked in pastry. Once she reached the ground, she found she had little appetite. Making apologies to Renato for not eating right then, she wrapped the pastry in a napkin and tucked it into her vest pocket, hoping her appetite would return soon.

Lizzie returned to her work, and polished more of the bow rail until it became too dark to see what she was doing. She ducked into the galley at the end of second dog watch supper. The men who had just finished eating were leaving as she entered. They greeted her casually as they passed by her.

One voice stood out from theirs. "Hey there, Miss Eliz!" It was Phillip. He was wiping dishes. "Did ye eat yet?"

"No, but I'm not hungry anyway." The galley emptied, leaving them alone. Lizzie sat down on one of the benches. Phillip handed her a mug of grog and sat down facing her across the table.

"Did I see that man of Pardal's bringin' you meals?"

"Yes. It's a long story, but apparently…his…death freed the man's, Renato's, daughter from years of awful servitude to…him. Renato's way of expressing his gratitude is by cooking for me and waiting on me whenever possible. Here, I've no appetite for this tonight." She pulled the napkin wrapped meat pie from her vest and pushed it across the table.

Phillip unwrapped it and whistled. "Ye got yerself a servin' man waitin' on ye hand and foot? Lucky girl!"

Lizzie shook her head. "No. I'm quite uncomfortable with it, but he insisted. Fortunately it's only for a few more days."

"You don't _want_ to have servants?"

"No. I'd rather do for myself."

"Oh, you are a different sort of lass, Miss Eliz!" Phillip laughed. After a moment his face became serious. "I've heard an interestin' rumor goin' round the ship today. I'm sure you've heard it too. Any truth to it?"

"Absolutely none, Phillip." Lizzie snorted in disgust. "I heard it last night the instant I set foot on the ship, from one of the watch who hadn't even left the Pearl. Somebody had too much time on their hands. But it certainly has the Captain upset!"

Phillip looked at her quizzically. "I wonder why? If it's not true, all he has to do is say it's not true."

Lizzie laughed grimly. "It seems that our esteemed Captain doesn't quite recall what he said or did last night. It appears that he doesn't know if it's true either."

"Is there anything he _would_ regret if he remembered it?" Phillip's eyebrows rose as he asked the question.

Lizzie looked at him sharply. "If you're thinking that he, we…the answer is no. We danced. That was bad enough… but that was all. He didn't propose to me, or make any promises or declarations or anything else. If you must know—"

"—No, no, I don't want to know anything!" Phillip interrupted, holding his hands up in front of him. "I'm just worried about you, that's all."

Lizzie smiled at him, a sad, wistful smile. "Phillip, you are probably the only real friend I have on board the Pearl. You keep telling me I remind you of your daughter. Today you and Gibbs have both told me that you're worried about me. It reminds me of my father. You're both very sweet, and I'm truly touched by your concern, really I am."

The smile faded. She studied her untouched mug. "But I don't think you have anything to worry about regarding the Captain and me. And what I was going to say is, last night the drunken sot passed out cold in the middle of a sentence. Now he's afraid of what he might have said or done, and how and when it's going to come back to bite him."

"Are ye goin' t'tell 'im?"

"He can twist in the wind for all I care, Phillip. He's paid no mind at all to how anything he may have said or done might have affected me."

Phillip paused for a moment, and chose his words carefully before speaking.

"And this matters to you?"

Lizzie raised her brown eyes to meet his hazel ones. Tears were forming in them. "Yes."

Phillip chewed on his lip. For a long time he said nothing. He just watched Lizzie swallow the tears she refused to shed. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Lass, it's not my place to say anything—"

Lizzie cut him short. "If you're going to tell me to be careful because you don't want to see me get hurt, you're too late."

"T'wasn't at all what I was goin' to say! I was about to tell ye to be patient. The Cap'n's usually a pretty smart man, but sometimes 'e's as blind and pig-headed as they come. It may take 'im a while to figure out that you've got feelin's for 'im."

"He's known for months, Phillip. It doesn't seem to matter to him. Pirates don't have relationships, that's what he told me." She lowered her voice to imitate Jack's. "It's dangerous, could get a man killed."

Phillip squinted. "Oh, really? Did he now?" Lizzie nodded.

"Still… " he muttered to himself. He sighed again and shook his head.

"Still what?"

Phillip jumped. "Sorry, the mind wanders sometimes. I was goin' ta say, still, I think ye should be patient. Give 'im a little more time to think things through."

"A little more time is all he's going to have." She stood up, leaned over and gave Phillip a quick hug. "Thank you, Phillip. Sometimes it really helps to have someone to talk to."

She left the galley and went straight to her cubby. She didn't notice Jack sitting up on the quarterdeck in the dark, watching her.


	55. Chapter 55 Escapes

_**CH 55 Escapes**_

The next morning, the first rays of sun found Lizzie already awake, staring out the cannon port under the steps. She hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Jack had stomped around in his cabin most of the night. The sound hadn't kept her awake; to the contrary, she was glad that he couldn't sleep either. It was her own thoughts that had kept her from sleeping.

Lizzie could feel her heart pounding in her temples as she gritted her teeth. She felt trapped. _I hope Fritz gets us to the Atlantic as fast as he can. I can't stand this any more._

She was glad to hear the ground crew approaching with mules just a few minutes later. Fritz called out, "We are getting an early start today! Rise and shine!" Lizzie heard the sound of Jack's footsteps approaching his cabin door. They stopped and retreated toward the rear of the cabin. A minute later she heard his voice from the quarterdeck. _Another rabbit hole…that ladder and hatch! So that's how it's going to be today. Fine…_

She crawled out from under the steps. Renato appeared moments later, waving and out of breath. She went down the ladder to the ground. "Fritz is in a rush today! I had to pack up camp quickly, Miss Elizabeth. I did not have an opportunity to cook anything. I'm very sorry! But I brought you some fruit and more juice. I will prepare a better meal the next time we stop!" He bowed and hurried away. She awkwardly carried the fruit and the bottle of juice up the ladder, and stowed them in her alcove. The watch bell rang, reminding her that it was her turn to play 'breakfast chef' for the pirates. She pulled up the ladder and headed for the galley.

Handing out pieces of hardtack, and mugs of grog to bleary-eyed men required little conscious thought. To keep her mind on the task, she counted heads as she served. _thirty-one, thirty-two…_

"Good mornin', lass!" Phillip's voice startled her.

"Hello, Phillip."

"Cap'n been in for his breakfast yet?"

Her voice was quiet. "I suspect he'd rather starve than come in here now."

Phillip laughed and whispered back, "Maybe you should stay on galley duty! If he gets hungry enough…"

Lizzie smirked, but the smile faded fast. "No. He'll just send someone for it."

No sooner had she spoken than Tobias, who had been one of the first to eat, came back into the galley. 'Cap'n sent me to fetch his breakfast."

Lizzie spoke to Phillip as she tilted her head toward Tobias. "See?"

* * *

. 

The caravan began rolling. They were still traveling through thick forest. Trees leaned over the old road, in places touching in the middle above it. The canopy of branches created the effect that the ship was rolling through an arched corridor. Once again, the tall masts occasionally snagged branches and bent them before they snapped back into place. The crew was forced to be on the lookout for objects falling or flung from the trees. Many beautiful iridescent blue-green birds with bright crimson chests and tail feathers longer than Lizzie's arm flew back and forth across the road before the ship. Lizzie recognized them from a print she had seen in one of the books in her father's library. They were _quetzals,_ the legendary birds that had once been worshipped as gods by the ancient Aztecs.

She settled herself at the bow rail ahead of the fore mast, where she was less likely to have surprises from the trees dropped on her head. As they rolled along, she drank the juice and ate some of the fruit Renato had brought her. About three hours after the caravan set out, Lizzie saw something move at the side of the road about halfway up the long column of mules. It appeared and disappeared several times, only showing glimpses of itself for a second before vanishing into the bushes.

As the ship got closer, Lizzie saw that it was a small child, naked but for a bright colored feather tied in her shiny black hair. The girl was so young she could barely walk. The sight of the mules and the ship fascinated her. Her smile was wide and happy, and she laughed, showing off all four of her tiny new teeth. Lizzie couldn't help but smile back at her. When she did, a woman rose up behind the child and pulled her into the brush. Lizzie only got a glimpse of the woman before she and the girl disappeared into the forest. She had tanned skin and black hair, and she was short and wiry, just like the Guaymi men who were working on the caravan team.

The caravan stopped to rest the mules a short while later. Instead of helping with the animals, the Guaymi crew members went off into the forest carrying bows and arrows. They returned before the mules were all watered, carrying several freshly killed deer and wild pigs. They presented the carcasses to the men who were driving the supply wagons, and then they all went together to find Fritz. The Guaymi team leader beckoned to Fritz to speak with him privately. When they had finished their conversation, Fritz reached into his pocket and handed the man something. The Guaymi leader gestured to his crew. As one, the Guaymi men all turned and vanished into the forest.

Fritz walked back to the ship and shouted up to Jack. "Well, Captain, that puts a knot in our plans!"

"What happened, mate?" Jack replied from the quarterdeck.

"The Guaymi just requested to be paid their share now. They say they've fulfilled their obligation to provide the team with food for the rest of the journey. We're passing through their territory, and they want to go home. So we've just lost our hunters and some of our mule handlers!"

"Will that slow us down?" Jack asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"It might. All the mules must be watered at each rest point. That will take longer with fewer men. And harnessing them in the morning will take longer as well."

From the bow, Lizzie called out "I could help!" Eighty feet away, she heard Jack snort. She glanced at him. His glowering expression showed his opinion of her offer.

Fritz smiled in Lizzie's direction. "Thank you, Miss Lizzie. I will certainly call for you if it seems that we will need you."

When Lizzie looked back toward Jack, he was nowhere in sight.

* * *

. 

Not long after the caravan started moving again, it reached another hill, this one higher than the previous ones. Fritz called out, "Two foothills, one large hill that someone thought was a mountain, one long downhill slope, and then the sea!" The Pearl's bow rose as the carrier started up the incline. Again the crew was treated to the sight of the trees in the forest shrinking below them as they climbed higher and higher. Fritz drove the mules hard, and they reached the top of the hill in the middle of the afternoon. It took longer than usual to get the animals all watered when they were stopped for a rest. When the mules had been cared for, they started down the other side.

The sun was setting just as they reached the valley floor and Fritz called out for everyone to halt for the night. He stepped down from the mule drivers' seat smiling. "We have caught up with our original schedule. If all continues so well, we should reach the sea very soon, five days! With the half day we missed, the trip should take five and a half days." But Lizzie heard him cursing later, as it took until well after dark to get all the mules unhitched and staked out with fewer men to share the task.

* * *

. 

Renato soon appeared with Lizzie's supper. She went down to eat on the ground. He had brought more of the rice and stew. She ate it appreciatively.

"I'm going to miss your cooking, Renato! You are very skilled. Are you going to seek another manservant's position after this? You might consider becoming a chef!"

Renato thought for a moment. "I have not considered what I will do, Miss Elizabeth. My first concern is for Vitória, my daughter. My wife is long dead, so Vitória is all the family I have left. It is assumed in our small village that Vitória ran away with Juan without my blessing and without benefit of marriage. She would be scorned and shunned if she returned to the village. If we remain in Portobello, some of the men would surely recognize her. If she is to make a new life for herself, I must take her away from Portobello and away from northern Brazil and Panama where anyone might know her. I have not been able to think where we could go."

Lizzie thought while she finished her meal. "Renato, have you or your daughter ever been to Jamaica?"

"No, Miss Elizabeth, neither of us has gone there."

"Good! I may be able to help you. Get yourselves to Port Royal. No one will know your daughter there. She will have an opportunity to start her life over without her past or her reputation hanging over her head. I know exactly how uncomfortable that can be."

"What should I do once we get there?"

"Seek out a man named Weatherby Swann. He is my father. I do not know for certain that he is still there. It is possible that he may have been called back to England since I left. But if he is still in Port Royal, he might be in need of a good manservant or a cook, especially if that man was sent by his daughter."

She smiled at the thought of her father being called upon by Renato and his daughter. "Telling him that you've seen me recently will certainly get you in the door, at least! I'm sure that if he hired you, there could be work found for your daughter as well."

"And if your father is not to be found in Port Royal?

"If my father no longer lives there, go and ask to speak to Admiral Norrington of the British Navy. I'm sure he is still in Port Royal. Tell him that I personally sent you to him. Give him my regards. But do not ever mention with whom I am traveling! Appeal to him for assistance. The Admiral may know of other local households in need of help."

"Ah, Miss Elizabeth, you are our salvation once again. All we must do is find the money to pay for our passage. No matter, we will find a way! I know that once Vitória is safe, God will make everything else right." He smiled broadly and kissed Lizzie's hand in thanks. He stacked up the empty dishes, bid Lizzie a good night and went back to the crew's camp.

* * *

. 

Lizzie climbed the ladder to the Pearl. When she reached the deck, Jack was sitting on the steps above her alcove. She passed by without looking at him.

"Are you ready to talk to me yet?" Jack's voice was quiet.

She stopped but did not turn around to face him. "You're the one who's been hiding. Are _you_ ready to talk to _me_?"

"I just want some answers."

"So do I, Captain…"


	56. Chapter 56 The Truth Will Out

_**CH 56 The Truth Will Out**_

"Lizzie…"

Lizzie whirled around. Her voice was low and her tone bitter. "Sweet talk and pet names aren't going to work. I want to know what you're afraid of that's making you hide and avoid me. You seemed to like me well enough at the bonfire. What happened to change your mind?"

"I told you! I don't know what happened! I… don't… remember. All I want to know is what I said and what I did. Near as I can determine, you're the only one who would know!"

"What do you _think_ that you said and did?"

"I've heard some tales. I just want to know if there's any truth to them…"

"Are you afraid that you got yourself betrothed while you were too drunk to think? Is that what this is all about?"

Jack couldn't quite hide the gasp of panic. "Did I?"

Lizzie's face became a blank mask, but the anger in her eyes was bright and clear. "No, _Captain_, your reputation as a fickle, tomcatting, reprobate pirate is intact. You're not betrothed, at least not to me. Whatever you may have done after I left is none of my concern."

Jack exhaled and smiled. "I need to kick somebody's arse for starting that rumor. I wonder who it was…"

Lizzie lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "And as for what you did, might you be worried that you don't recall taking me to your bed?"

"Did we…?" Jack looked horrified.

"Maybe in your drunken dreams, but not in truth. My honor is intact as well."

Jack heaved a huge sigh of relief. "It would have been truly regretful to be unable to recall that experience!'

"Is that all you can say?" Lizzie bit her lip to keep from shouting.

"What's the problem, love? I didn't do anything to harm myself, or you! We're square now! Everything's just the way it was before, right?"

The intensity of Lizzie's glare could have burned holes in Jack's forehead.

"No, we're not square yet. I answered your questions, now you can answer mine."

Jack braced himself. "What do you want to know?"

"When are you going to divide up the treasure among the crew?"

Jack looked at her as if she had just asked if the ship could fly. "What?"

"I asked when you're handing out the shares of the treasure to the crew. I want mine now."

"What for? What are you going to do with it here?"

"When the Pearl reaches the sea, I'm not going with her. I'm staying ashore. I'll make sure Fritz and his crew are paid fairly for moving your ship, out of my own share if necessary. Then I'm going to Portobello, and I'm going to get a room with a hot bath. Several hot baths, as many as it takes to get me clean. And then I'm buying myself passage back to Jamaica."

"But…you can't!"

Her reply came out in a heated rush. "Why not? The Pearl can certainly sail perfectly well without me aboard her." She paused to regain control of her temper.

"At the bonfire, you sought out my company. You behaved as if you enjoyed being with me. You were a very different man that night. You were actually quite charming. It was a lovely, dare I say, romantic evening." As she spoke, a hint of the happiness she had felt as the events occurred showed on her face, easing her frown and curving her lips upward. "Well, at least it was until you passed out at my feet… "

Jack began to smile as he watched her face relax. But her last sentence turned his smile to a grimace. He turned his hands palms up, a rueful expression on his face.

As Lizzie continued, her countenance became more angry and pained. "But the next day, you acted like none of it ever happened. Once again all you cared about was yourself and your own reputation. I became your worst fear, an anchor around your neck. Everything that your actions of the night before had led me to believe was a lie. I thought that you were changing, that maybe…you were beginning to care for me. But it's quite clear to me now that you'll always only be concerned for yourself, and nobody else."

She stopped and drew a deep breath. "I am very thankful that you passed out before I decided to do something that I truly would have regretted." Unspoken thoughts echoed after the words. _I can't help twisting that particular knife just a little, even though that wasn't exactly true.__Or was it?_

Loquacious Captain Jack Sparrow was stunned to total speechlessness, perhaps for the first time in his life. He rested his elbows on his knees, blinked several times and focused his eyes on a spot on the deck just past Lizzie's feet.

Lizzie cleared her throat to get his attention again. She made sure his eyes met hers before she went on. "I can't quite believe that you don't recall a single thing about the entire evening. I'm a woman with feelings, not just a good time to be had and forgotten. And I _am_ leaving the Pearl. I intend to disembark before she launches. I will need money, and I'm owed payment for serving on your crew. So when are you dividing up the treasure? You seem to have not answered my question."

Jack crouched forward over his knees like heavy weather on a distant horizon. His face clouded up as several expressions crossed it simultaneously. "I'll divvy it up when I damn well feel like it!" He surged to his feet and stormed across the deck into his cabin. The slam of the door behind him echoed like thunder through the ship.

Her whispered reply was edged with razor sharp steel. "Fine. I believe I can see to it that you feel like it quite soon."

* * *

.

She looked around the deck. Spotting Pintel near the fo'c's'le, she strode over to him.

"Mister Pintel! Did you hear that once the Pearl reaches the Atlantic, she'll be less than a day's sailing from the port city of Portobello? Wouldn't it be nice to have real shore leave in a city with, ahem, amenities? I can't wait to wash my hair in hot fresh water with real soap!"

Pintel chuckled. "Amenities! I like the sound o' that! Aye, it'd be nice to see a pub again! Not to mention a few other things…" He called across the deck to his nephew. "Didja know we'll be within a day of a real port city once we're afloat?" Other pirates heard him and joined into the conversation. Soon over half of the crew was gathered around, discussing the prospect of some well deserved leave time. Someone mentioned having no money for shore leave. Lizzie spoke quietly. "The Captain still has that treasure to divvy up…"

The conversation flared at that point, and soon all the men were wondering when the Captain was going to start handing out the gold. When the discussion turned to asking him about gold and shore leave first thing in the morning, Lizzie smiled to herself and slipped off to her alcove.

* * *

.

Through the cabin wall, she could hear shouting and the sound of metal clashing on metal. Momentary concern rushed through her. _Who could he be fighting with in there? Should I call for help?_

Then she recognized that the noise was that of one sword hitting something metallic that was not another sword. It sounded as if Jack was trying to kill a cannon with his cutlass. As he assaulted the unfortunate inanimate object, he shouted "Damn you! Damn you to Hell!" over and over. Lizzie laid still, certain he was cursing her. The raging and crashing went on and on. She picked up her coat, which doubled as her pillow, and went to the alcove under the fo'c's'le steps to lay down between the barrels and piles of coiled ropes.

Sleep evaded her again. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position wedged among the items stowed under the stairs. Thunder rumbled overhead, and rain began to splatter onto her through the open front and sides of the steps. Lizzie groaned, picked up her coat and went into the unlit galley. She felt her way along the wall until she reached a corner, where she plopped the coat on the floor and laid down with her head on it. It was dark, quiet and dry. She had only been asleep for a few minutes when the sound of feet on the galley floor woke her. Sitting up, she asked in a low, sleep-hoarse voice, "Who's there?"

"Ah!" a man's surprised voice replied. "Who's in here?"

"Lizzie."

"Oh, Miss Elizabeth! It's just me, Gibbs. What're ye doin' in here?"

"Captain's being a bit too noisy this evening. I moved to the forward stairs to find some quiet, and then it started to rain on me so I came in here."

"Aye, somethin's got him good and riled tonight. My cabin's right below his, and it sounds like he's got a whole shop full o' blacksmiths poundin' on anvils in there."

Lizzie snorted. "Well-cursed anvils, from the sounds of it."

Gibbs laughed. "Aye! Do ye mind if I take a back corner in here? At least until he winds down, anyway?"

"Go ahead, Mister Gibbs. Let the crew talk!" She laid down and rolled over to face the wall. Once again, she dozed off only to be awakened again, this time by Gibbs' snoring.


	57. Chapter 57 Peaks and Valleys

_**CH 57 Peaks and Valleys**_

The rising sun found Lizzie sitting on the wet deck against the galley bulkhead, arms wrapped around her knees. She hadn't slept a wink the night before. The rain had kept her in the galley until nearly sunrise, and Gibbs' stentorian snoring had kept her awake all night. She rested her forehead on her arms, shielding her weary eyes from the sunlight. A voice sounded from the ground. "Miss Lizzie? Are you awake? We could use some help with the mules!"

Lizzie shook her head hard to clear it and stumbled to her feet. "I'll be right there, Fritz!" She tossed her coat into her alcove and threw a ladder over the side. Fritz was waiting when she reached the ground. "Good morning, Miss Lizzie! Have you ever harnessed a mule before?"

"No, but I used to watch the groom harness Father's horses, so I think I know how it goes on, at least." Fritz chuckled. "You're in for an education today, Miss Elizabeth…"

Voices came from behind them. "Wait for us!" Tobias and Jacob ran to catch up. "We used to assist the grooms at the stable at the inn near where we lived. We can help."

"Ah, good! More hands makes lighter work, or so I've heard!" Fritz laughed. They walked to where the mules were tied to trees in pairs. The mules were much larger up close than they had seemed from up on the ship. Lizzie thought they were at least as large as the huge draft horses she'd seen pulling heavy wagons through the streets of London.

A bridle set with very long reins hung near the end of each mule's tie out rope. Fritz instructed, "Put the bridles on the mules, and lead them in pairs to the carrier. Someone else will help you from there. Can you men show Miss Lizzie how to get the bridles on them?" Jacob and Tobias nodded. "Good! I must go see to other things."

Tobias picked up a bridle and approached the mule. Its ears went back, but it offered no resistance as he opened its mouth with his finger and thumb, inserted the bit and brought the leather bridle up over its head, pulling the long ears between the bands. He buckled the bridle under its throat over the tie-out halter that it already wore, coiled the reins neatly and tossed them onto its wide back, and said "There. Just like that!"

Jacob did the same with the mule nearest him. Lizzie picked up a bridle and walked toward the mule to which it belonged. The mule flattened his ears, stretched his neck and reached for her arm with huge yellow teeth. Lizzie jerked her arm back. The mule shook his head and brayed. Lizzie held the bridle out again, and once more the mule threatened her.

Lizzie took a step back and looked the mule in the eye. "If I had wanted to deal with a nasty jack ass, I would have stayed on the ship. Now hold still and mind your manners, or I'll stake you down with a sword!" Jacob and Tobias ducked their heads below the backs of the mules, stifling their laughter. The mule seemed to consider Lizzie's words. He lowered his head and was quite docile as she slipped the bit into his mouth and put the bridle on him. She had no trouble with the mule's partner, and soon she was ready to lead them to the carrier.

They led their animals to the men who were at the carrier. As they arrived, the men tossed harnesses out of a wagon over the backs of each mule. "Tie'm up there," one man pointed to some trees, "harness'm right and bring'm back."

Lizzie followed the boys to the trees, and learned how to tie the mules up securely. The boys showed her how to get the harnesses onto the animals and buckle them properly. Lizzie managed well enough, although the meaner mule of her pair decided it was fun to try to step on her toes, making her dance around him to reach buckles and latches. When the harnesses were secure, they led the mules back to the carrier where men took them away to hook them up. Lizzie and the boys returned to the mule line and repeated the process several times before all the mules were in harness and trace, ready to move.

The new mule handlers returned to the Pearl just as Renato appeared with Lizzie's breakfast. Lizzie smiled at the boys. "Come on, men, breakfast is on me!" She turned to Renato. "I hope you don't mind. I brought guests!" Jacob looked at his brother, whose expression was as surprised as his own. They both smiled at the thought of eating something other than ship fare.

Renato winked at her. "Fortunately I made too much today!" He presented a tray with soft, puffy round fried bread, and a large bowl of chopped fruit in thick, warm syrup. He spooned some fruit into a piece of bread, sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar, rolled it up and handed it to Lizzie. She took a bite and made enthusiastic sounds of approval. Renato handed a similar roll to each of the boys and stood back smiling as he watched all three of them enjoy his handiwork.

"Renato," Lizzie began after she had swallowed the last bite of her second roll, "I think the three of us will be helping with the mules for the next few days. Would you mind cooking for Tobias and Jacob as well as for me?"

"Not at all, Miss Elizabeth! If you and the young gentlemen are to be taking the place of twenty Guaymi, I think you should all eat well!" Tobias and Jacob smiled at each other again.

* * *

. 

At each mule rest break, Lizzie, Jacob and Tobias assisted the mule handlers. They filled water buckets from barrels on one of the supply wagons and carried them to the mules. When the mules were finished drinking, they took the buckets back for more water for the next pair of mules. Some of the ground crew men did the same, and the mules were all watered in short order.

At the midday meal, they stopped near a small waterfall that cascaded down the side of the hill. Lizzie and the other mule handlers were directed to fill the buckets from the falls instead of from the tanks. While they did that, others on the mule crew refilled the water barrels on their supply wagons.

Gibbs, as first mate of the Pearl, was in charge of ships' provisions. He saw the ground crew filling their water tanks and started shouting. He gave orders to the pirates to unload all the ship's water barrels, scrub them out and fill them with fresh water. The extra tasks delayed their departure a bit longer than Fritz would have preferred, but they were necessary. The delay gave Renato time to cook for Lizzie and the boys. He produced more fried bread rolls, this time filled with spiced meat and vegetables.

Fritz drove the mules hard again, and they made it up the second foot hill and down the other side before sundown. When the caravan stopped for the night, Lizzie and the boys helped to unhitch the mules, removed the harnesses and tied them out for the night. Once they were tied and their bridles were removed, each mule was given a ration of grain and a flake of hay from another supply wagon, and a bucket of water.

When they were finished, Renato appeared just as they reached the ship. He had deer steaks, spicy rice and beans, and fruit for dessert. They sat on the ground to eat. Renato had brought the cask of Port, and he poured each of them a glass. "A little wine after a hard day's work is a great tonic!" The boys looked at each other and grinned.

Lizzie raised her glass in a toast, but before she spoke, she saw Renato glance up at the ship. She turned her head to see what had drawn his attention. Jack was standing on the quarterdeck watching them. His eyes met hers. He looked tired. Lizzie turned back to the boys, forced a smile, and in a falsely bold, happy voice she proposed a toast. "To the mules! May they get the Pearl to the Atlantic in record time!" Renato and the boys laughed. Lizzie drank deeply. When she looked back at the ship, Jack was gone.

* * *

. 

The sun set while they finished their meal. When they returned to the ship it was full dark. Tobias and Jacob could not stop talking about how good the food and wine had been. They headed below deck to their hammocks. Lizzie went to her cubby under the stairs as soon as the ladder was pulled up for the night. She was beyond exhausted; lack of sleep, coupled with the unusual work of handling the sometimes recalcitrant animals had worn her out. She laid down under the steps with her head on her coat.

Later that night, something thumped softly against the bulkhead in Jack's bedchamber. A few minutes later she heard it again. The sound repeated at irregular intervals. Finally Lizzie could stand it no longer, and put her ear to the wall. Sounds through the wood were muffled, but she could make out Jack mumbling to himself, "No, damn it. No, no, no. Go away!" Thump. More mumbling, not clear enough for her to comprehend, then another thump. It sounded like Jack was tossing and turning in his bed, talking to himself.

_At least he's not torturing weapons tonight…_ Lizzie moved as far from the wall as she could get, laid down and covered her ears with her hands. Even then, her sleep was sporadic and un-refreshing.

* * *

Very early the next morning, Fritz called for Lizzie to help with the mules again. She crawled out of the cubby and rubbed her eyes as she walked to the rail. The ladder was already down. Tobias and Jacob were on the ground waiting for her. They hurried to the mules and got them ready as fast as they could. When they were all hitched, Renato brought their breakfast, more of the warm fruit and fried bread rolls. Just as they sat down to eat, Fritz shouted that they would begin moving in just a few minutes. Lizzie made apologies to Renato as they took their food and climbed aboard the Pearl. Lizzie hauled up the ladder just as the carrier began to roll. They went up to the fo'c's'le and sat on the hatch cover to eat.

The carrier started to tilt as it ascended another hill. Lizzie looked up. This hill was a lot taller than the last two had been. She went to the bow and spoke to Fritz, who was almost directly below her. "Is this the mountain you mentioned?"

Fritz replied, "Yes! It is not really a mountain, it's an old volcano. But it is one of the tallest peaks in Panama. We cannot pass by it over the surrounding foothills as we have with the rest of the ridge. The road goes up this hill because the ground on those hills is covered with loose stones. The mules could not keep their footing on them, and the carrier could not get through them. So we must climb this one. Fortunately the old Spanish road is still good, and the switchbacks not too steep. If all goes well we will be over it by nightfall!"

Lizzie smiled a little sadly at the news. Fritz had said earlier that there was just one more hill after the 'mountain' and then they would reach the sea. That meant they might be able to reach the Atlantic as early as tomorrow evening. There she could leave the ship and try to find a way to start a new life. Jack had not spoken to her since she had asked him about the treasure two days before. He had entirely avoided her, other than when she caught him looking down from the ship as she and the boys had eaten supper the previous evening. _He's not going to ask me to stay. I just hope he decides to divide up the treasure soon or I'll be leaving penniless._

The boys finished their breakfast and excused themselves politely. Lizzie smiled at them. "I'll see you both when it's time to go wait on the mules again!" They laughed and went away. She was glad that they had both stopped ducking and blushing around her. _Maybe if they learn now that women don't always bite, they'll have an easier time of things when they start courting in earnest. But then again, being on a pirate ship, maybe they __should__ think that all women bite. In the places they'll be going, most of the women they'll meet probably do!_

* * *

. 

Lizzie looked about for Mister Gibbs, to see what chores he had assigned her. He was standing at the helm by himself, watching the scenery pass by. She went up the steps to join him.

"Good mornin', Miss Elizabeth!"

"Same to you, Mister Gibbs. What've you got for me to do today?"

"Officially? Nothin'. As I see it, yer doin' enough with all that fussin' over the mules. As far as I'm concerned, you and the two lads are off duty until we reach the Atlantic."

"Officially?" Lizzie echoed suspiciously. "That sounds like there's an 'unofficially' to go with it."

"Unofficially…" Gibbs paused. "Somethin's eatin' at the Cap'n. He's been impossible for the last two days. Can you think of anythin' that might settle him down?"

Lizzie considered the question for some time before replying. "I'm sure there's nothing I can do that will make things better. I should tell you, I suppose. When the Pearl reaches the sea, I'm staying ashore. I won't be continuing on with the crew."

Gibbs' eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open. "No! Ye don't say! What're ye goin' ta do here in Panama?"

"I'm not staying here. I'll find my own passage back to Jamaica where I can find out what happened to my father. If he's still governor perhaps I can go home. If he's not…"

"What if he's not?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll go to England. I suppose I could go anywhere. If I can't go back home, it doesn't really matter to me where I wash ashore."

Gibbs pointed down at the cabin below his feet. "Does _he _know of yer intentions?"

Lizzie nodded.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I'd wager that explains what's vexin' 'im! He won't talk to anybody, and if 'e's disturbed, 'e either blisters our ears or storms off into his cabin."

"He doesn't care if I stay or not, Mister Gibbs. When I told him I was leaving, he just went into his cabin and slammed the door behind him."

"Ah, lass, you don't know how men work things out. I just hope he comes to his senses before—"

"Gibbs!" Jack's voice came from the cabin door below them. "Gibbs! Where the blazes are you?"

Gibbs put a finger to his lips, warning Lizzie to be quiet. He went down the steps. "Aye, Cap'n? I'm right here. What do ye need?"

"Get in here! Now!"

Lizzie heard the cabin door shut behind him. She sat down on the quarterdeck near the hatch that led down to the cabin and tried to listen, but she couldn't hear anything. After a few minutes, she went down to her cubby to take a nap before the next break to rest the mules.

* * *

. 

The ship progressed up the volcano. Halfway up the switchback road, Fritz stopped to rest the mules. The flat area at the turn was only big enough for the carrier. The mule train was stopped on the incline above it, and the supply wagons were stopped on the slope behind the carrier. Lizzie and the boys went to help water the mules. Hauling buckets of water up two hills to reach the mules was back breaking work. The boys were fairly well-muscled from climbing the rigging so much. Lizzie considered that perhaps she should have spent more time in the crows' nest like they did. Her arms and shoulders ached, and she was panting and covered in sweat by the time all the mules were watered. When they returned to the ship, she dropped to the deck and leaned against the main mast. She was so tired she fell asleep where she sat, and did not move until they stopped to rest the mules again.

Her insulted upper body muscles rebelled at hauling heavy buckets again, but she insisted they complete the task. By the time she was finished, her arms were shaking from the exertion. Renato appeared with the mid-day dinner. He handed Lizzie a basket. "I know Fritz will be moving the caravan very soon. I will see you again at supper!"

Lizzie started to carry the food up the ladder, but she had trouble climbing. She gave the basket to Tobias. Once they had reached the deck, Jacob pulled up the ladder while Lizzie massaged her upper arms to quell the muscle tremors. She glanced up at the helm and saw Jack. He turned his head to the side to avoid meeting her eyes. She went beneath the steps out of his sight. When her muscles ceased quivering and twitching, she remained there until Jacob's voice came through the curtain, asking if she was going to eat. In her anger and discomfort, she had forgotten all about the food. She came out and joined the boys on the fo'c's'le hatch to eat.

* * *

. 

As they advanced up the switchback, the pirates on the deck began to anticipate reaching the top. "Whoever thought a ship could climb a mountain?" someone said. "How high up are we?"

Tobias and Jacob had the same thought at the same time. They both rushed up the rigging, Toby on the fore mast and Jake on the main mast. As the ship neared the top of the hill, Toby began to laugh. He looked all around and laughed some more.

He shouted down to the crew on the deck below. "Land, I mean WATER ho! To both port and starboard!" The pirates looked confused. A moment later Jake shouted "Now I can see it too!"

Jack appeared on the quarterdeck and rushed up the rigging on the aft mast like he was being chased. From Lizzie's spot on the fo'c's'le she could see his face break into a huge smile. He shouted, "Oceans in both directions!" He pointed to the south. "There's the Pacific, where we came from—", then he pointed to the north, "—and there's the Atlantic, where we're going!" Lizzie thought that she saw Jack kiss the mast. She was certain that she saw him pat it gently, and his lips moved as he spoke only to his ship. _Oh, that's right, he does love something other than just himself…you._ She patted the hatch cover with her fingertips. _Yes, I'm jealous, but you're his first love. He's all yours._

The pirates swarmed up the rigging to take in the view. Soon Lizzie, Gibbs, Cotton and Phillip were the only ones left on the deck. Even Cotton's parrot flew up to the crow's nest to see what was so interesting. Phillip spoke to Lizzie and gestured to the rigging. "Miss Eliz, ye should go up while ye can, this ain't somethin' yer likely to see again any time soon!"

Lizzie considered her aching arms. "There are a lot of things I won't be likely to see again any time soon, Phillip. I'll take a miss on this one." Gibbs leaned over and whispered in Phillip's ear. The look on Phillip's face told Lizzie what Gibbs had just shared with him. "Aw, Miss Eliz! Yer not really, are ye?"

Lizzie nodded. "Yes, as soon as the Pearl reaches the ocean. I see no point in staying aboard any longer." She felt tears stinging her eyes and bit her tongue to stop them before they escaped. Phillip replied softly, "That's a darned shame. I wish there was somethin' I could do…" His comment did not help her stem the flow of the tears. She bit her tongue harder. _I wish there was too, Phillip._

* * *

. 

The caravan stopped to rest the mules just past the caldera at the top of the volcano. Going down the mountain, Lizzie was hauling full buckets downhill and empty ones uphill, so it wasn't quite as painful. But she was still exhausted when they were finished. She came aboard and dropped like a stone on the quarterdeck steps. Before the caravan started moving again, Fritz shouted up to the pirates. "Look down at the valley. See the road down there, where it forks? That's where we will be stopping tonight! Tomorrow if all goes well we should reach the sea before sunset!" Lizzie looked over the side. She could see the fork in the road. _That must be the road to Portobello. I wish I could just go with Renato when he leaves. The thought of one more day aboard this ship feels like I'm facing an eternity._

There was only one mule break on the way down. By the time Lizzie was done with her share of the work, she could hardly move. She climbed back onto the ship and collapsed against the main mast. The angle of the road and the tilt of the deck was such that she began to slip slowly toward the bow. She moved around to the other side of the mast, which faced her toward the stern, Jack's cabin door, and the quarterdeck where the helm was.

Lizzie dozed off leaning back against the mast. She jerked and awoke abruptly, pulse racing from a terrifying dream. She could not recall any details, but she knew it had been something terrible happening to the Black Pearl. The fear was so strong she could hardly breathe. Her first reaction was to imagine her anchor. The angel was behind her as always. This time he was pointing with one hand toward something in front of her. When she opened her eyes, Jack was at the helm rail looking down at her.

* * *

A/N: 

Stentorian: loud, piercing, resonant, strident.

A jack ass is the correct name for a male donkey.  
A _jackass_ is a slang term for someone who isn't too clever.  
Just a little technicality that I thought needed clarification.

A male mule is colloquially referred to as a john, but let's not go there, shall we?

And I took a little artistic liberty with the geographic details of Panama. There really is a volcano in Panama called _Volcán Barú, _from the summit of which both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans can be seen on very clear mornings. At approximately 11,000 feet, it is the tallest mountain in Panama. One can walk up to the peak in six to eight hours. But the old Spanish road does not climb it, and it's not anywhere near the Atlantic. So I guess you could say I moved a mountain for my story… ;)


	58. Chapter 58 Shares

_**CH 58 Shares**_

His eyes met hers for only a fleeting second before he spun on his heel and disappeared out of sight toward the stern. Lizzie sat motionless until her heart slowed to normal speed. She pondered the dream as she calmed herself. She could not remember anything of the dream other than that something awful had happened to the ship.

_Whatever happens to the ship will happen to Jack._ She remembered watching as the Kraken wrapped its tentacles around the ship and pulled it beneath the waves. _And vice versa…_

Just then Fritz called for the caravan to halt. It was nearly dark, but he had gotten them to the valley floor. They had crossed the tall peak in one day. Lizzie pulled herself together and headed to the ground to unhitch and care for the tired mules.

When Lizzie and the boys were finished, Renato was waiting for them at the ship. He had gone to extra lengths with their evening meal. There was both deer and pork, some of the same starchy vegetables that Lizzie had eaten with Juan, spicy rice, fruit in sauce and a dense cake, and more of the Port wine. He had set up the small table and the two chairs near a rock that served as a third seat. He even had a tablecloth on it, and a candle burning in the center.

"This will be the last time I prepare supper for you. I wanted it to be the best yet!" Renato said as he filled plates for them.

"Thank you!" the boys chorused. "This is the best food I've ever eaten!" said Tobias. "Same here!" echoed Jacob.

"Thank you, Renato. As I've said, you didn't have to do this, but it certainly has been wonderful. We all appreciate it very much."

Renato bowed. "It has been an honor, Miss Elizabeth. I only wish you could meet my daughter. I know she will wish to thank you in person for what you have done for us."

"I wish I could meet her too…" Lizzie's voice trailed off. "Renato, we'll speak more about this later." With her eyes, she indicated the boys, who were shoveling in their food and paying little attention to the conversation. Renato nodded. When they were finished eating, the boys excused themselves and climbed the ladder to the deck. As they left, the ship's bell above them rang twice, signaling seven o'clock.

Lizzie deliberately tarried over the last bites of her food until they were gone. Renato asked, "What was it you wished to speak of, Miss Elizabeth?"

"I plan to disembark the ship just before she is launched. I hope to go back to Port Royal. But I don't yet know if it is safe for me to return there, as I may have been labeled a pirate since I left. If I appear in the city without knowing for certain that it's safe, I could end up being hanged. But I could travel with you and your daughter at least as far as western Jamaica."

"Miss Elizabeth, that would be wonderful!" He stopped. "But we do not have the money for passage yet. It might be some time before we can board a ship."

"Don't worry about that just now. After I leave the ship, I will walk to Portobello by the shore trail you mentioned. Where could we meet up in the city?"

"There is a church in the city very near the docks, a mariner's church. We will wait for you there. It will be sanctuary for us in the event that I encounter any trouble when I go to free Vitória."

"Good! I expect I should be able to walk that far in a day. I will look for the mariner's church when I reach the city."

Gibbs' voice interrupted them. "Miss Elizabeth! Yer needed on board!"

"I'd better go. There's no telling what's going on up there now…"

"Goodnight, Miss Elizabeth! I will see you and the boys in the morning!"

* * *

.

When Lizzie boarded the ship, Gibbs met her at the ladder. "The Cap'n called a meeting of all hands below deck to commence at the start o' first watch."

"Thank you, Mister Gibbs. There's a little time yet. I think I'm going to catch a fast nap first!" She pulled up the ladder, crawled into her alcove and was soon sound asleep.

She was awakened by Jacob calling her from outside the curtain. "Wake up, Miss Elizabeth! The Cap'n started his meeting, and you're the only one who wasn't there!"

Lizzie rubbed her eyes and scooted out onto the deck where she could stand up. Jacob was already gone. She hurried down the hatch ladder. Lanterns illuminated the normally dim area. The stink of whale oil smoke filled the already dank and stuffy room. Jack was standing with his back to the ladder in the middle of the deck, which had been temporarily cleared of the crew's belongings and hammocks. The crew was standing before him in a half circle. Behind Jack were the crates that contained the treasures from the lake, a single chair and a small table that held the scale from his cabin along with the ledger pad, quill pen and ink bottle. There was a piece of cloth covering something on the table.

Jack stopped speaking and turned toward Lizzie as she stepped off the ladder. He raised his head and looked down his elegant nose at her snobbishly. "Ah, Miss Swann! How kind of you to grace us with your presence! Fashionably late, I see." Before she could reply, he cut her off with a flip of his hand. "I understand how it is, you've been working so hard as a stable hand that you're simply exhausted. May I remind you that despite your wish to be of assistance with our transport, you're still a member of this crew, and you are still expected to follow orders."

Lizzie opened her mouth, ready to say something nasty. She stopped herself. Instead, she replied quietly, "Yes, Captain, you may. I'm deeply sorry, and I'm _sure_ it won't happen again."

The brief flash of discomfort that crossed Jack's face made up for the frustration of not letting herself yell at him. She took a place behind the crew off to the side of the room and tried to fade into the bulkhead.

Jack returned to what he'd been saying. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes! I've been petitioned repeatedly today for two things. First, Mister Pintel had the brilliant idea to take shore leave in Portobello as soon as we launch. I'm all for it! We need to reprovision anyway, might as well have a good time while we're about it!" The crew broke into cheers and applause, and a few of the men clapped Pintel on the back.

Jack continued. "Second, a number of you have requested me to divide up our, ahem, salvage from the Celestina. I wonder where that notion got its start?" He glanced sideways at Lizzie out of narrowed eyes.

"That's why I called you all together. It's time to divvy up. Before we begin, everything will be divided up into shares by rank as set out in the Code. The Captain, that'd be me, gets two shares. First Mate, that'd be Mister Gibbs, gets one and a half shares. Ship's doctor, that'd be Gibbs and Mister Cotton, gets one and half shares each. Gibbs, that does not mean you get three shares. We, that being Gibbs, Cotton and myself, have already taken our shares out of the first portion of the spoils. If we had an assigned carpenter, a gunner or a sail maker, they'd get one and a half shares each. But we don't. So the rest of you lot all get one share each."

He waited until the murmurs died down. He smiled. "It may not sound like much, but you haven't seen what's in those chests!" He had to wait until the chatter quieted again.

"Everything has been inventoried and weighed, and a value has been assigned to the best of Mister Gibbs' and my abilities. The coin has already been divided evenly at face value. Some other items will be chosen by seniority. Be aware that we can't appraise items that contain gems fairly. Gems are only worth what someone will pay for them. I would prefer to have these items appraised by, ahem, one of my professional contacts. That will assure that we will get the most for them. You may choose from them now or wait and receive a share fo the proceeds later. However, if you take some and make a bad deal selling them for yourself, there is no recourse. Savvy?"

The men agreed. Jack added, "There are two complications. First, there are some old religious items of a Catholic nature that will be impossible to, um, dispose of in their intact condition. The last thing we need is to attract the attention of the Church. Those items will have to be disassembled and sold piecemeal. The shares on those will be paid out later. No choice on that one."

The men mumbled reluctant agreement. Nobody wanted the Vatican after them.

Jack went on. "The second _unfortunate_ problem we have is three hundred pounds of gold bricks that don't divide evenly by the number of shares." His smile belied the use of the word 'unfortunate'.

Silence fell over the ship. "Three hundred pounds of gold, Cap'n?" said a voice from the back.

"Aye. More accurately, three hundred and twenty pounds of gold and thirty eight shares to be paid out in total. You remember these? They have to be cut up to divide them." From under the cloth on the table he pulled out one of the gold bricks. He needed both hands to lift it. He handed it to the men nearest him and gestured that they should pass it around. As it went from man to man around the hold, a look of pure bliss crossed each face. Some petted it and stroked it as if it were alive.

Gibbs offered his thoughts. "I think we should consider melting those bricks down into ingots Cap'n! We'd have to do it ashore to get a fire that hot. We could cast'em in the sand. It'd be easier to divvy up and use it in smaller bits rather than big hunks."

Jack replied, "I will take your suggestion under consideration, Mister Gibbs. For once you make perfect sense!"

Lizzie thought about offering her sword to cut the bricks, but decided it would be better if she kept quiet.

Jack reached under the cloth again and picked up one of the smaller ingots. "We also have ninety five of these!" He showed it to the men, then handed it to Gibbs, who put it away. The gold brick made its way back to Jack, who put it in a chest behind him and locked the lid.

He turned to the crew and cracked his knuckles in anticipation of what he was about to say. He was smiling broadly, and every gold tooth shone in the lantern light. "Now… about the amount! One share of the money from this haul—this is just the coin and the small ingots, mind you, nothing else—is equal to eighty-two doubloons, which equals two hundred forty six pounds Sterling, which equals seventeen years' of an able Navy sailor's normal wages!"

The hold erupted in cheers and whistles. When they calmed down, Jack went on, still smiling broadly. "As for the gold bricks, once they're divided, each share of those will come to roughly eight pounds. That's one hundred twenty eight ounces, not eight pounds Sterling. At one ounce per doubloon, that's roughly another twenty eight years' wages!" Jack let that thought sink into the crew for a second. "That pay will be forthcoming once we find a secure place to smelt them down into smaller ingots."

The men went wild at those words. "Eight _pounds _of gold per man? Can you believe _that_?" Several of them linked arms and spun each other around the hold, dancing for joy. The pirates knew they had gotten a lot of treasure out of the Celestina, but no one other than Jack, Gibbs and Lizzie knew exactly how much.

Men clapped each other on the back, some cried tears of joy. A few of them even rushed up to hug Jack, who backed away cautiously with an expression like he'd just stepped in something unpleasant. "I'm glad you're…happy. But there'll be no hugging the Captain!"

Gibbs whistled to get their attention. "We've got a lot yet to do! Let's get on with the divvying!" He stepped up to the table with a list, and began calling names in order of seniority. Each man came to the table and was handed a piece of sail cloth tied into a crude bag and filled with one share of the ingots and coins. Lizzie was the very last to be called, after Tobias and Jacob.

None of the men had seen that much money pass through their hands in total during their entire lifetimes. They all began talking about what they intended to do with their wealth. Jack interrupted them. "We're not finished yet!"

He and Gibbs opened a chest and brought out the bags of jewelry. They laid out the gold bracelets and chains on the table, then dumped out the pendants and the rings, and finally the wedding chains. The pirates murmured as they jostled one another trying to get a better look. They'd never seen that much treasure aboard the Black Pearl all at one time before.

Gibbs spoke now. "Goin' strictly by weight, right now each of the crew is entitled to thirty two ounces of the plunder ye see here if ye choose to take it tonight. The weight of any gems is counted toward that amount. As the Cap'n explained, your risk on the gems is your own! Ye can take all or part o' your share now, or ye can wait and see how much we get when it's sold."

Gibbs sat down and started to call the first name. He stopped, stood up and spoke directly to Jack. "Cap'n, I've been thinkin' about this. In all fairness, Miss Swann risked her life helpin' to bring all o' this aboard. I propose that she gets first choice out o' the swag here, and a share and a half for her efforts. If I figgered right, that would reduce the amount of the other shares by about half an ounce each to accommodate."

The men roared their agreement. None of them had needed to put their necks on the line for the treasure they were sharing. They were well aware that Lizzie had been just as instrumental as the Captain in bringing the gold up from the wreck. Half an ounce for her from their shares was a small price to pay for that.

Jack's face folded into a deep frown. Gibbs looked at him and asked, "Is there a problem, Cap'n? Should it be set to a formal vote?" The men shouted again, this time expressing their disapproval of the need for a vote. Jack looked around the room and gestured for silence.

"A simple show of hands will suffice. All in favor raise your hand."

Every hand in the room went up except for Jack's. Lizzie was too surprised to move. Jack's frown melted into a pout. "Fine then. She chooses first. And gets one and a half shares." He sat down on one of the chests with his chin in his hand and refused to look at her.

A mumbled voice from somewhere in the crowd stage-whispered, "We oughta elect 'er the new cap'n! She's brought in more gold since she's been aboard than 'e ever 'as!"

Jack jumped up, drew his cutlass and shouted, "Belay that! And whoever said it, step out here and fall on my sword!" Nobody moved. After a minute, Jack sat back down and swept an angry glare around the room. He ran his fingers down the blade of the cutlass. Even from several feet away Lizzie could see that it had several deep nicks and dents in the edge. It appeared that whatever Jack had been fighting with in his cabin had won the battle, or else her Damascus had left its mark during the sparring.

Gibbs smiled and motioned to Lizzie. "Come on, lass! The boys are waitin' for their turns!"

"Thank you, Mister Gibbs!" Lizzie stepped up to the table. The gems glittered in the light of the lanterns, each one calling to her. She looked for the small ring with the square diamond, but there was too much gaudy jewelry piled on the table to spot it easily. She saw a delicate gold necklace with an oval ruby in a simple filigree setting. She had liked that when she had seen it the first time. She recalled seeing earrings that went with it. There weren't many earrings, so those were easy to find. She set the necklace and earrings in the scale together. She looked again for the ring with the square diamond, to no avail. There were so many rings in the pile it would have taken a very long time to find it, and the men were eager to get their chance to choose.

_I'd best take things I can sell or trade, because I won't be around to collect my share of the bricks. _She bit her lip at the thought. Despite Jack's warning during the inventorying that they could be dangerous to the bearer, she finally settled on one of the heavy money chains. She also found a ruby ring that went with the rest of the ruby set. _I don't have any idea what I'm going to do with the jewelry, but it is pretty…_

Gibbs weighed everything and said "Three more ounces." She lifted another money chain and bent open one of the links with her fingers, removing the last four from the chain. When they were added to the scale, it was at just a hair over forty eight ounces. Gibbs winked at her and slid her treasure off the scale pan into his hands.

"Thank you, Mister Gibbs. I think all of this will fit into the bag with the coins." She untied a corner of the bag for Gibbs to drop everything into it. She returned to her spot by the wall, tied the heavy bag shut and cradled it in her arms. Gibbs recorded what she had taken on the ledger. Then he called the name of the man who was first on the list.

Each man enjoyed his turn at picking through the piles of gold and gems on the table. The onlookers encouraged their friends to take this or that item, or warned them not to take an item that they had their eye on. Jack sat on the chest, watching as the men fondled the gold and jewelry before making their choices.

The choosing went on for what felt like hours. Lizzie leaned against the bulkhead, about to fall asleep on her feet. She leaned toward Gibbs and spoke into his ear. "Would it be alright if I left before I fall face down snoring?" With one eye still on the man who was picking through the loot, Gibbs laughed and replied quietly, "I don't see why not! Go ahead!" Lizzie thanked him and headed up the ladder.

The Brazilians who had been listening to the meeting through the hull of the ship scattered into the shadows when they heard her footsteps on the deck.


	59. Chapter 59 Tears and Farewells

_**CH 59 Tears and Farewells**_

Lizzie crossed the deck to her alcove, carrying the small bag with her share of the treasure. She heard something behind her, and turned to see Jack stepping out of the hatch onto the deck. He saw her and stopped. "Just goin' to the…" He pointed toward the bow where the ship's heads were located.

"Have a good time," Lizzie responded, and ducked through the curtains under the steps. She heard his cabin door slam a few seconds later.

She put the heavy bag inside her hat on the deck. _At least I won't have a lot to carry tomorrow… _Upon remembering that the ship would be reaching the sea the next day, her throat tightened and she felt the sting of new tears in her eyes. She curled up on the deck with her coat under her head and the hilt of the sword gripped in her hand. Alone in the dark under the steps of the coal black pirate ship, surrounded by forest and hills, Lizzie finally allowed herself to cry.

The tears rapidly reached floodwater levels and she was pulled down in their undertow. Everything she had learned, all the new experiences and all that she was losing rushed past in her mind, swirled together with concern for her future and of the unknown. The mixture of fear, despair and loss drew fresh waves of tears from her. Thinking of Jack at the bonfire with his arm around her and her head resting against him reduced her to incoherent keening sobs. She buried her face in her coat to suppress the sound and cried until she could make no more tears. The sobbing subsided to a hiccupping whimper punctuated with many sniffles.

Unable to breathe through her swollen sinuses, she raised her head to gasp for air. The quiet sound of a sniff and a throat being ever so softly cleared outside the curtain startled her. As she sat up she kicked the forgotten sword, sending it rattling across the floor. Muffled footfalls faded quickly into the distance. But the sound of a door closing answered the question.

* * *

. 

Lizzie could not fall asleep. She tossed and rolled and shifted positions dozens of times, but she could not get comfortable. Abandoning the idea, she crawled out onto the deck and returned to her old insomnia post against the main mast. Lizzie looked up at the stars, arms wrapped around her bent knees. The sheathed sword lay across her lap. It was a clear, bright night, and the glowing moon was only a few days from being perfectly round and full. When she breathed deeply, sometimes she thought she could smell the ocean on the night breeze. The scent was comforting, and she began to relax as she concentrated on finding the faint essence of the sea in every breath she took.

A clean-shaven Jack stood before her, hair tied in a queue, and the sword in his hand. He examined the wrapping on the hilt and nodded approval. He raised his empty hand, and then, all beads and braids and beard and kohl-rimmed eyes, another Jack stood next to him. He held an identical sword, and stared at it as if it was alive in his hand. The beardless Jack put an arm over the shoulder of the other and touched the blades of the two swords together. A bright white light blazed forth, obliterating the two Jacks from Lizzie's vision.

The rising sun shining in her face woke her up. She looked around the deck, expecting to see…something. But nothing, or no one, was there. She was alone, and the sword was still across her lap. Everything was damp with early morning dew. She pulled herself to her feet, wetting her hands with dew from the deck. As she stood up, the sun reflected off the moisture on the black wood. There were footprints in the droplets. They led from the cabin door to a few feet from where she had slept, then back to the cabin door again.

* * *

. 

Fritz called her name a few moments later. Lizzie put the sword under the steps, placed her coat over the hat full of treasure, and then stopped. She pulled out the bag and felt inside until she found what she sought. Putting the objects in her pants pocket, she covered the hat again before she went to the ladder and threw it over the side. By the time she reached the ground, Tobias and Jacob had reached the ladder. They could not stop smiling the whole time they worked. When the mules were all harnessed, they returned to the ship. Renato had already set up the small table and chairs for them, but he was not there.

Even though she could guess the answer, Lizzie couldn't help asking the boys, "So what has you two so happy today?"

"What else, Miss Elizabeth? The money!" Tobias replied. Jacob chimed in. "Now we can go home!"

"Where is home, anyway? All this time we've been on board together, and I don't know anything about you!"

"We're from the clean side of Tortuga, the side with the village, not the side where the pirates go." Jacob looked almost embarrassed as he added the last words.

Tobias picked up where he stopped. "Our da died, and our mum married again. Her new husband didn't fancy us bein' around, so he gave us the boot and told us not to come back. We went to the other side and waited until a ship came in that weren't a known pirate ship."

Jacob took over. "We know all the pirate ships. There's not much to do on Tortuga unless you like hunting wild cattle. So we spent a lot of time up on the cliffs makin' notes on what ships were whose! We could write a book on pirate ship identifyin', exceptin' it'd get us killed soon's it was printed…"

Tobias jumped in again. " Anyway, we signed onto a merchant ship what happened to be goin' to Asia and we ended up in Singapore. We'd decided by then that we didn't much like sailin', so we hid until they left the dock. We got wind that Cap'n Sparrow was in town. He's well known on Tortuga, y'know. We knew he'd be goin' back there again eventually, so we asked to join his crew. And here we are!"

"But if… if you were thrown out, how will you go home?"

"We figure if we offer 'im enough money maybe he'll go away. Or drink himself to death… If not, we'll buy our own place and start a business doin' something or other!"

Lizzie nodded. "Sounds like a plan…." she commented tactfully.

Tobias swallowed hard. "So what about you? What're you goin' to do now?"

"Me?" Lizzie thought for a moment. _I might as well let them know. The whole crew will find out soon anyway. _ "I'm going home to Port Royal. I'll be leaving today when the Pearl reaches the sea, and I'm going to book passage on a different ship."

For a moment Jacob looked like he was going to cry. Tobias' eyes got wide. "Why? What about…um…I thought you were goin' to…"

"—marry the Captain?" Lizzie finished for him. "No, that was just a rumor somebody started. " She winked at Jacob. "The Captain hasn't asked me, and I'm sure he's not ever going to marry me or anyone else." She sighed.

Tobias pressed on. "But I saw you and him at the bonfire! He…he…sure looked happy sittin' with you."

Lizzie bit her lip. "I_ really _don't want to talk about this, Toby. I'll give you both a word of advice though. If you take up drinking, stop before you forget what you've said or done."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that!" Toby grimaced at the thought. His hangover was still very fresh in his mind. Jake elbowed his big brother and giggled. Toby growled at him. "Just you wait, Jake! You'll get your turn! And I'm goin' ta laugh so hard when you puke up your guts!"

* * *

. 

Renato appeared with a tray of food which he set on the table. He was dressed head to toe in burgundy servant's livery complete with a lace collar and cuffs and silver buttons bearing Pardal's monogram.

"What's all this?" Lizzie asked.

"This is the uniform which Pardal insisted that I wear whenever I accompanied him on any important business. It is how he made sure that everyone knew I was his personal servant. This," he plucked at the sleeve of the jacket, "will help me to prove who I am when I go to free Vitória. That, and this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out Juan's personal seal, used for sealing letters and signing documents. "Once Vitória is freed, I will burn this costume—after I take off the buttons and sell them for the silver!" He smiled.

"Now, for breakfast!" He began pulling covers off dishes. He had pork steaks, fruit, toast, and miracle of miracles, tea.

Lizzie gasped at the sight of the tea pot and sugar bowl. "I haven't had tea since we left Singapore! And they didn't even have sugar!"

Renato smiled. "There was only a little left in Juan's personal store, so I saved it for today. I must apologize though, there is no milk or cream." He poured Lizzie a cup of tea. He offered some to the boys, but they declined. "She can have it all!" Jacob said generously. Lizzie stirred sugar into the tea and took a sip. Her eyes closed in a moment of bliss. "Renato, tea making is an art that not many men master! But you are an expert!"

Renato smiled. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth." He began filling their plates with the meal.

"I have asked Fritz to delay departing with the caravan until you have eaten. He agreed because he understands why I do this for you. But you must eat before it gets cold!"

They ate in silence. Toby and Jake were silent because they were shoveling the food in as fast as they could. They knew that after this meal, they were back on grog and ships' rations until the Pearl was restocked with provisions. Lizzie was quiet for other reasons. She forced herself to eat some of the meal, but she had little appetite. When they were finished, the boys insisted on helping Renato carry everything back to the supply wagon. Lizzie followed them.

When everything was stowed in the wagon and the dishes were wiped, Renato reached under the wagon and took out a sack. He put it over his shoulder. "This is all I own, what is in this bag. Right now I'm glad to have so little, for it will be lighter to carry!"

He bid Tobias and Jacob farewell. The boys thanked him for everything, and shook his hand. They turned toward the ship, then stopped to wait for Lizzie. She said "I'll be along in just a moment!" They nodded and left.

Lizzie reached into her pocket. "Renato, I have something I wish you to take. Hold out your hand."

Renato did so. She placed four links of the gold money chain in his palm, along with two doubloons. "Miss Elizabeth! I will not allow you to pay me for serving you!"

"No, Renato, this isn't for serving me. I want you to use this to book your passages to Port Royal and a place to stay until you find work. Whatever is left over is for Vitória. I'm sure she will need new clothes, and the rest is for her dowry. I'd like her to have a fresh start with a chance at happiness."

Tears streamed down Renato's cheeks. "Miss Elizabeth, how can I ever thank you?"

"Get to Port Royal and convince my father to hire you! His servants were, well, much less than adequate when last I was there!" Lizzie smiled. "If all goes well, I should be on the seaside trail by this afternoon. I expect I should reach the church in Portobello by this evening."

Her smile disappeared. "But I have had a very bad feeling about the last leg of this journey since yesterday. If something goes wrong and I don't reach Portobello, don't wait for me longer than two days. If I don't appear by then, go to my father and tell him you last saw me alive and whole in the company of Captain Sparrow."

Renato smiled. "I am sure all will be well, but I will do as you ask." They walked in silence back to the ship, where Fritz waited in the mule driver's seat. Renato glanced up at the sun. "I must go now so I can reach Portobello before it grows too late." Lizzie threw her arms around him and hugged him as if he were a favorite uncle. He kissed her cheeks and then her hand.

"May God go with you, Miss Elizabeth! I hope I will see you again soon!"

"May He go with you as well, Renato! The next time we see one another, I'll expect to meet your daughter!" Renato turned and strode off toward the fork in the road that led to Portobello. As he passed Fritz he called out, "Farewell, Fritz! May fortune smile on your new endeavors!"

Fritz replied, "Same to you, Ren! You know where you can find me if you ever want to, my friend!"

To Lizzie, Fritz said, "Time to board now, Miss Lizzie! We'll be at the sea in just a few hours! I don't expect to be stopping to rest the mules again."

Lizzie scrambled up the ladder and rolled it up on the deck. As she turned around, she saw Jack leaning on the quarterdeck rail watching her.

* * *

. 

A/N:

Dear Gentle Reader:  
Patience is a virtue, and you've been very virtuous. :)  
Your patience shall be rewarded soon.  
Buckle your seat belt.


	60. Chapter 60 Tipping the Balance

_**CH 60 Tipping the Balance**_

Jack's eyes met hers. Then he closed his eyes and stood like that for a long time. She waited, watching him until he opened them again. He said nothing; he just looked at her. His face was unreadable. He was waiting too. She raised her eyebrows in silent question. He did not move. Finally she broke the eye contact and went under the steps into the dark of the alcove. _I don't have any idea what he's doing. If he wants to say something, he should just say it…_

Kneeling in the dim light, she felt around until she found the sword belt, and buckled it around her waist. She picked up her coat and shook it to try to remove some of the wrinkles from being slept on for weeks. Phillip's old compass fell out of the coat. Lizzie grabbed it and put it in her trouser pocket. Taking the bag out of her hat, she put it into a coat pocket. It was heavy with all the gold on one side, but once she was wearing the coat she could distribute things more evenly between pockets. She folded the coat carefully and laid it on the deck. Hat in hand, she crawled out from under the steps. Once she was upright, she settled the hat on her head. _There.__When we reach the sea, all I need to do is grab my coat…_ She felt her throat tighten again, and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears before they started.

Fritz cracked the whip over the mules, and the caravan started rolling. As they had for the entire journey, the Brazilians walked far ahead of the mules, using machetes to cut back bushes and small trees that leaned out into the road or had grown since it was last used. As they reached the fork in the road, they took the left path. Renato had taken the right one. As they crossed the fork, Lizzie looked down the road that Renato had taken, but he was already out of sight. Sad and anxious, she sighed as she seated herself on the fo'c's'le steps to wait out her final hours aboard the ship.

The road wasn't as well-made as the old Spanish road. Juan had not had the unlimited resources of the entire treasury of Spain to spend on road construction. There were no cut stone blocks to take the weight of the heavy carrier and the ship it bore. This road was merely dirt covered with loose stones in some places, and in other places simply logs from trees that had been removed from the road's path, inlaid into shallow trenches across the roadway. It was bumpy and uncomfortable, especially at the pace Fritz was pushing the mules. For several miles the carrier was jostled roughly as it passed through the forested valley.

The road curved around the base of a cliff as tall as the main mast of the Pearl. A vertical stone wall rose up on one side of the ship, and tall forest trees grew close to the edge of the road on the other side. The road was so narrow the pirates could almost reach over the rail and touch the face of the cliff as they passed it.

* * *

. 

The carrier stopped. Lizzie stood and leaned over the rail to see ahead of the ship. Several men blocked the road in front of the mules. They were all holding machetes. Jack sprinted past her up onto the fo'c's'le deck and spoke to Fritz over the bow rail. "I thought you weren't planning to stop until we reached the sea!"

"I wasn't, Captain, but it appears that someone else has other plans." Fritz shouted something over his shoulder in another language, and was answered by someone in one of the supply wagons behind the Pearl.

A voice with a thick accent spoke quietly from the main deck. "Captain, it seems that there will be one more renegotiation of your transport fee before your ship reaches the ocean."

Jack and Lizzie turned around. Resplendent in a scarlet shirt, the leader of the Brazilian crew stood on the deck. A long machete hung from his belt.

Jack pointed toward the bottom of the steps, right at Lizzie. "Please allow me to refer you to our transport negotiator, Miss Swann!" Lizzie glared up at him before taking a step forward to speak to the Brazilian. While the man was watching Lizzie, Jack moved very slowly toward the fo'c's'le rail.

"What is it that you want?"

"All of your gold, not just the pittance you planned to pay us."

"You can have the rest of what Pardal had negotiated for himself."

"How much was that?"

"Four hundred fifty gold pieces, less the fifty that the Guaymi already received."

The Brazilian laughed. "Still a pittance! You don't seem to realize that what is spoken on inside of your ship's hull is easily heard on the outside. We want _all_ of the gold, including the three hundred twenty pounds of gold bricks and the Catholic relics! And we intend to have all of it!"

Jack muttered quietly, "Oh, bugger!" To the Brazilian, he replied with a confident smile, "I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. That means' No.' "

Lizzie stared up at Jack and hissed. "Where did you…?" Jack shrugged. "I just picked it up somewhere."

The man chuckled as he replied. "Oh, you won't refuse, Captain. _They _will see to it!" He pointed up at the top of the cliff. Jack and Lizzie followed his gesture up over their heads to where several of the Brazilian crew clustered around a very large and precarious-looking rock formation. They were all holding pry bars against the base of the rocks.

The leader continued. "That will crush your precious ship into splinters, Captain, and you cannot move her out of its way. And if that isn't enough persuasion, I'm sure that _they_

will convince you to see reason and give us the gold." He gestured toward the trees on the other side of the road. Every tree contained at least two men holding onto ropes or vines, ready to swing aboard. "If they have to come aboard, you will all die. I believe the phrase your English highwaymen use is 'Your money, or your life!'"

The sounds of fighting from ahead of the ship made Jack glance over his shoulder. At the front of the mule team, Fritz's men from the supply wagons had attacked the Brazilians who were blocking the road. The front pair of mules fidgeted nervously at the crashing noises and sudden motions around them. Their discomfort spread through the teams, until all forty mules were braying and stamping their hooves in agitation.

The Brazilians on the ground were outnumbered nearly two to one by the former slaves. But the ones in the trees were greater in number than the pirates. There was also the matter of the potential rock slide poised to destroy the Black Pearl. Jack considered the odds for a moment. He drew his pistol out of his belt and pointed it toward the sky.

Lizzie said, "Jack! If you fire that, the mules will stampede!"

Jack smiled, a gleefully wicked smile. "I know, love! I've been wanting to do this ever since he told us not to!" He fired the gun.

* * *

. 

The mules screamed in panic, as did Fritz, for the reins were torn from his hands as the mules charged. The ship moved slowly at first, but it accelerated rapidly. The fighting on the road ahead of the teams ceased as men threw themselves out of the way of twenty six tons of terrified draft mules.

On the deck, the Brazilian leader suddenly realized he was alone on the now-moving ship. He whistled piercingly around his fingers. Men began dropping out of the trees, swinging across the gap and landing on the deck of the ship. As soon as they alighted, they drew weapons and attacked the pirates.

On the cliff, the men with the pry bars frantically pushed and dug under the rocks to loosen them. The formation began to crumble. Smaller stones bounced down the cliff and landed harmlessly on the deck. The larger stones slid over the edge and started to fall. Jack watched helplessly as the boulders plummeted toward the stern of the ship. The mules barely pulled the Pearl out of the path of the boulders in time. The huge rocks passed within inches of the transom, hit the base of the cliff and bounced across the road into the forest. Trees broke and fell where the boulders had passed. A shower of smaller stones and dirt followed them down, raising a thick cloud of dust behind the ship.

Some of the men in the trees jumped too late. Instead of swinging out over the main deck, they collided with the higher walls of the quarterdeck. They slid down the side and met up with the rocks falling in the road behind the ship. A few men missed the ship completely and pendulated through the cloud of dust all the way across the narrow road into the cliff face . Their ropes swung back to the trees empty.

* * *

. 

As his men began arriving, the leader drew his machete and charged at Lizzie. Jack jumped over the fo'c's'le rail and landed on the deck between them, cutlass drawn. Their weapons rang out fiercely as they engaged.

Lizzie turned just in time to see another Brazilian headed at her at a dead run, swinging his machete. She tried to keep in mind everything Jack had taught her about fighting. The man was obviously more used to cutting brush with the machete than fighting with it. Lizzie could anticipate his every move. Two strikes with her sword disarmed him, and a third lunge caused him to plunge over the rail onto the ground. Another man rushed her. He carried a sword, not a machete, and he seemed to have some idea how to use it.

The frightened mules galloped on. The narrow, closed-in road offered them nowhere else to run, so the ship and carrier bounced along behind them as they continued around the curved cliff face.

Lizzie continued parrying the Brazilian's sword. He was much taller than she was, which put his blows too near her head for her comfort. He was also much stronger, having spent twelve hours or more each day for the last few weeks swinging a heavy machete on the road in front of the carrier. She was tiring fast. She allowed him to back her up onto the fo'c's'le steps. It gave her a height advantage. He thought he was intimidating her, and he laughed. "I saw your play fight with your Captain. I did not believe a woman could really handle a sword so well! I was right! It was all for show! You are weak, just like Pardal said!" He made as if to stab her in the chest

Lizzie growled, "You can try to kill me all you like, but never, ever insult me!" By the time his sword reached its target, she was not there. He gave away his intentions with his movements, and she had ample time to dodge the blow. As he recovered for another strike, she wrapped both hands around the hilt of the Damascus sword. Roaring like a madwoman, she swung with all her strength. Sparks flew as the Brazilian's sword blade sheared off where it was struck. It skidded across the deck and over the side.

The man looked at the useless hilt in his hand, then at Lizzie. His jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide. Lizzie took one step toward him, stomping her foot on the stairs as she threatened him with her sword. She yelled again, the feral scream of an outraged woman. Before she could skewer him, he followed his blade over the side, screeching as he fell.

Brazilians from the ground battle crept up the tie-down lines where they had leapt when the mules stampeded and joined the fray. Now they outnumbered the pirates.

* * *

. 

The road uncurled and the gap between trees and hill widened as the rocky cliff face ended. Lizzie could hear Fritz bellowing at the mules to no avail. He caught up some of the reins and hauled on them, but it had no effect. The ship bounced and rocked wildly as it flew down the uneven road. Lizzie heard a loud crack, and Fritz screamed again. The hitch pin holding the harness yoke to the carrier sheared off. A second later the mule teams veered off into the forest. Lizzie was fighting another attacker, but she risked a glance as the mules went crashing into the woods, traces and harnesses breaking as they tried to go in forty different directions. Fritz was not on the seat that was still attached to the yoke.

Jack was still parrying with the man in the red shirt. He had backed the Brazilian all the way up the fo'c's'le steps and to the bow, but he couldn't stop the man. They were evenly matched in size, height, weight, skill and the lengths of their weapons. But the large machete was heavier than the cutlass, and Lizzie could see Jack wince at the sting in his hand whenever the two swords collided. He needed an advantage. She shouted, "Jack! Catch!" Slipping her hand out of the sword knot, she tossed the sword just as Jack turned his head the barest bit to acknowledge her. He caught the sword left handed, tossed her the cutlass with his right and smoothly switched the Damascus sword to that hand.

The Brazilian was not expecting Jack's sword to suddenly become eight inches longer. He was also not expecting it to pierce his shoulder and shove him backwards. The bow rail caught him off balance as he staggered, and he fell over it. A sickening crunch told everyone on the deck that he had fallen under the wheels of the runaway carrier.

Jack turned to Lizzie. "Want it back?" he shouted. Lizzie was struggling with the cutlass as she fought. "Yes, please! This thing's heavy!"

"Catch!" Jack tossed the Damascus sword. Lizzie passed the cutlass to her left hand, caught her own sword with her right and promptly disarmed her opponent, who lost his balance and fell over the side. She tossed the cutlass back to Jack.

Black men from Fritz' crew began climbing over the rails where they too had shinned up the tie-down ropes. They drew swords and attacked the Brazilian. The entire deck was covered with twos and threes of men engaged in deadly struggles.

The ship was completely out of control. The road was now a straight line leading up a gradual slope, the last hill before the sea. As the carrier raced up the slope, it slowed. Jacob, who had been in the crows nest since they had started rolling that morning, screamed, "Cap'n! We're headed for a cliff!"

* * *

. 

The carrier rolled to a halt, with the front two sets of wheels hanging off the precipice. It wasn't an actual cliff, but a very sharp drop-off that was the start of the long, straight, road down the steeper side of the hill to the launching ramp. Juan had been an extremely poor road designer.

All fighting stopped when Jacob shouted. Everyone raced forward to see what was happening. As they did, the carrier tilted forward, rocking unsteadily on the third pair of wheels. Everyone but Jack and Lizzie ran frantically toward the stern to keep it from going over the edge.

Lizzie saw Jack's wicked smile shine again. He fiddled with the beads in his beard for a moment before shouting, "Crew of the Pearl! To the head!" The pirates looked at each other in confusion. Ragetti figured it out first. "Come on!" He ran toward the bow, and a moment later his shipmates followed him. The Brazilians followed them with swords drawn until the ship began to tilt forward again. They retreated to the stern once more. Fritz's crew stood in the middle, uncertain which way to go. Ragetti gestured to them, but they didn't move.

The carrier rocked on its wheels, the ship's fate literally hanging in the balance. A voice came from the bow behind Jack. "What the hell is going on up here?" Fritz clambered up on the bowsprit and attempted to stand atop it to reach the rail. "I've been hanging onto your lovely lady figurehead down here…" Shifting his weight as he climbed up tipped the balance in favor of gravity. The front of the carrier fell forward over the edge and all the wheels followed it. Fritz screamed again and disappeared from sight.

The carrier rapidly accelerated as it descended the hill, swaying and tilting, jumping and lurching as various wheels hit rocks or logs in the poorly built road. The fight seemed to be all but forgotten as the Brazilians saw the sea looming ahead. They began climbing onto the rails and jumping. The Pearl shed Brazilians all the way down the hill.

Jack flew across the deck and up to the helm three steps at a time. He held onto the wheel, watching as his beloved ship barreled down the hill toward the ocean at breakneck speed. He caressed the spokes. "Hold together, love, hold together!" he whispered. Not knowing what else to do, Lizzie followed him up the steps, and gripped the rail near the helm as the ship raced toward almost certain destruction.

* * *

. 

The ocean grew closer and closer. Some intervention of fate kept the carrier on the road instead of running it off into the trees that were now on both sides. The last quarter mile of road before the ramp crossed a flat stretch of old volcanic lava flow. The ramp came into view. The Pearl was aimed right at it. There was a high sloping berm on each side of the ramp, the back side of a breakwater built to protect the construction. A wheel came off, causing the carrier to veer toward the berm at the last minute.

"Not good...!" were Jack's last words before the carrier hit the solid earth and stone berm and became airborne. The Black Pearl and the wagon that bore her flew through the air for more than the ship's length before diving into the ocean bow first. The fo'c's'le was partially submerged when she crashed into the sea. Water sprayed across the deck as far back as the aft hatch from the impact of her landing. Jack hugged the ship's wheel to keep from being thrown onto the deck below. Lizzie fell and slid into the rail, catching herself before she slipped over the edge.

The pirates and Fritz's men saw the collision coming and grabbed onto any rigging within reach. The ones who couldn't get to the rigging grabbed the rails or even the cannons. Jacob ducked down in the crows nest, braced himself with arms and legs and screamed in terror.

But the few surviving Brazilians who hadn't jumped off didn't anticipate the force of the landing. They were tossed about like toys. Some were slammed into the galley bulkhead, others went overboard. Those that came to the surface again began swimming toward shore as fast as they could. The few left on the deck that had survived were soon captured and thrown into the ocean. The large wheel from the carrier bounced over the berm and splashed into the water some distance behind the ship.

The momentum from her flight sent the Pearl out into deeper water. After seconds that felt like an eternity to Lizzie, the ship's bow bobbed up out of the water and she attempted to right herself. The pirates cheered. But the bow continued to rise until the deck was tilted sharply downward toward the stern.

"We're still tied to the carrier!" Jack shouted. "Cut the lines!"

Pirates and ground crew all rushed to the tie-down lines with their swords or knives. Jack and Lizzie sliced the ropes that came up to the quarterdeck. As the ropes parted, the angle of the deck began to return to normal. The Pearl lurched to port as all the ropes on starboard were cut, then jerked back to center as the last port rope was severed. Whatever was left of the carrier sank to the ocean floor over two hundred yards from the ramp. The men on the deck heaved a collective sigh of relief as the ship leveled out.

* * *

. 

Lizzie suddenly realized that the Pearl was in the water and she was still aboard. She spun around to face Jack. "Turn the ship around! I need to get to shore!"

Jack said, "I think we've got more pressing problems than your location, Miss Swann."

He pointed at the sea. The wind was coming from offshore, and the waves were pushing the Pearl back toward shallow water. "If we don't get sails up right now, we'll run aground!"

He began shouting orders to the crew to square the yards and raise the sails. Everyone, including the black ground crewmen, worked feverishly to get the sails up to keep the ship from running aground. The yards had never been moved into position so fast before, and the sails fairly flew up the masts.

Once the ship was no longer in danger, Lizzie turned back to Jack, her voice loud and angry. "This is all your fault! You fired that shot! Turn around and take me back to shore, or give me a long boat! I shouldn't be here!"

Jack shouted right back at her. "You shouldn't have been here to begin with!"

Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, but Jack looked past her and shouted, "Lizzie! Duck!" At the same instant, he saw Lizzie's eyes dart toward something over his shoulder. She screamed, "Jack! Look out!"

A Brazilian who had clung to the transom through the crash landing had climbed over the rail right behind Lizzie. Without looking, she bent at the waist, flipped the sword underneath her arm so it pointed backward, and jabbed. Her attacker's machete whooshed right through the air where her neck would have been. Her stab caught him in the side. He doubled over in pain. Lizzie stood, turned around and kicked him in the head. He fell over the rail into the water.

Simultaneously, Jack dropped, spun, and slashed in one seamless move at the Brazilian latecomer who had sneaked up behind him. The man fell onto the rail groaning as Jack's cutlass cut deeply into the muscles in his thigh. Jack picked up his feet and flipped him over the side.

Jack and Lizzie both peered down over the sides and around the edges of the tall transom, looking for any more enemies. There were none. They turned to face each other across the quarterdeck. Lizzie set upon him angrily. "So if I shouldn't have been here, where _should_ I have been, _Captain_?"

Jack snapped at her, "You should have been below deck where you were safe, not up here risking your life!"

"Oh, really? If I hadn't been here you would have gotten yourself killed at least twice! And if you hadn't been so busy yelling at me to duck, you would have seen him come over the rail behind you! Lucky for you that I was looking that way!"

"And if you hadn't been so busy looking at what was behind me, you would have seen that one coming up behind you! How fortuitous for you that I saw him first!"

"It's a damned good thing we were both on the deck at the same time to watch each other's backs then, wasn't it?" Jack's expression shifted from anger to astonishment. His mouth gaped open and closed, but no words came out.

"Oh, please! My use of a swear word wasn't _that_ shocking!" Lizzie grumbled, and stormed across the quarterdeck and down the steps. She passed Phillip, who was hurrying up the stairs.

Phillip approached Jack. "Are ye alright?"

Jack turned a bitter, pained face toward him. Phillip thought he saw a hint of tears in Jack's eyes. Jack pinched his forehead between thumb and fingers in an expression of deep grief. "That's exactly what happened to _him_, Phillip! He got it in the back because he wasn't looking out for himself! The same thing nearly happened to me because I was looking out for her! I was right, I knew it! I've been right all along!"

Phillip said softly, "Jack, what's different this time?"

Jack paused for a moment, thinking. "I'm still alive."

"Why is that, Jack?"

"Luck."

"No, Jack, it wasn't luck. Look harder."

Jack replayed the scene in his head and frowned. "She saw it coming and she warned me."

"Exactly. You're alive, _because_ she was there." Phillip turned around and went down the steps, leaving Jack staring after him, still frowning.

* * *

. 

Tobias ran across the deck shouting, "Jake! Where are you? Jacob! Are you alright?"

From the crow's nest, Jacob called out, "I'm up here!" He came down the rigging swiftly, and landed on the deck, grinning. "That was great! I want to do it again!"

A throat cleared nearby. It was Gibbs, and he did not look pleased.

"Uh, not real soon though..." Jacob tried hard to suppress the smile as Tobias dragged him away by the arm. Their excited voices carried as they went into the galley.

"Tell me about the fight! Did you kill anybody?" "No, you go first! Tell me all about bein' up there during that--it had to be like flyin'!"

* * *

. 

A voice from the bow said, "Will someone please tell me what just happened?"

It was a dripping wet Fritz, climbing over the rail onto the deck. Lizzie's face displayed complete and total surprise. "I thought you were…"

"I fell when we went over the edge and your figurehead caught me in her arms! I clung to her neck and we took a dunking together. She has a very hard head though…" He rubbed the top of his head gingerly.

"I'm so glad you're alright!"

"Do you have any idea what they were doing?" Fritz gestured toward the dead Brazilians on the deck.

"They said they wanted our gold. They intended to kill everyone aboard for it…"

"Greedy bastards got what they deserved."

Lizzie nodded. She looked around at Fritz's crew, who were standing ready for orders. "Your men were a great help, especially with the sails!"

"Many of us were pirates for a time after we escaped our masters. Some of us decided to try living the honest life, but some things aren't quickly forgotten!" He looked around. "It's nice to be at sea, but I think we should go back to shore before we get too far from land."

Jack came down from the quarterdeck and joined the conversation. "We're headed to Portobello for shore leave. We could drop you off when we get there."

"You might want to reconsider that shore leave, Captain. The leader, the one in red, was the son of the mayor of Portobello. I saw him meet his fate under the wheels…" Fritz made an unpleasant face. "When word reaches the mayor that pirates killed his oldest son, I doubt he'll welcome your presence in his city."

"Oh, bugger… Take a longboat. We'll find another." Jack sighed. "So much for shore leave."

Lizzie turned to Jack. "We still need to pay Fritz, Captain. Where is the gold that was to be…Pardal's?"

Jack went into his cabin and returned almost immediately with the small bag. Lizzie plucked it from his hands. Jack tried to grab it away from her, but he wasn't quick enough. She turned her back quickly as he tried to reach for it over her shoulder.

She shoved him away with one hand, and gave the bag to Fritz. "This is the rest of what Pardal had negotiated for when we launched in the lake. You and your crew deserve all of this. You not only got us to the sea before our earliest deadline, you helped protect the ship, kept her from sinking with the carrier, and helped raise the sails in time to keep her from running aground. If there are any honest Brazilians left among the crew, pay them fairly, but your men should get the lion's share! Don't _you_ agree, _Captain_? They helped save _your_ ship…" She looked fiercely at Jack, daring him to object.

Jack studied her face for a moment, and then nodded somewhat reluctantly. "Aye." He held out a hand to Fritz. "Thank you mate, and thanks to your men as well. If any of you decide to return to the pirate life, look me up!" Fritz smiled as he shook Jack's hand.

"We may just do that, Captain. Speaking of the men, we must get back to shore while we can still see it." Fritz looked at the dock and ramp which were getting smaller by the minute.

Lizzie said to Fritz, "Take me with you! I'm supposed to go back to Port Royal with Renato and his daughter!"

Jack's head came up sharply. He did a quick head count of Fritz's men. His voice was quiet and serious as he spoke close to her ear. "Lizzie, the longboat only holds ten. There's eleven of 'em aboard, and they're all big men. You'd make twelve, about as much weight as six extra gold bars. If it swamps, it's a long swim to shore even without piranhas… And if you're recognized as part of the crew of the ship that killed the mayor's son, you'd never leave Portobello alive."

Lizzie bit back tears of frustration. All her planning had been wiped out by one gunshot. "Dammit…" she mumbled to herself.

Fritz gathered his men as the pirates lowered the longboat and dropped a ladder. Lizzie thanked each of Fritz's crew before they climbed down to the boat. Fritz was the last to leave. "Miss Lizzie! I've given much thought to your comment about changing my name. I have decided to do so." 

Lizzie tried to smile through her own disappointment. "That will be a huge relief for you, I'm certain! What will you call yourself?"

"My mother used to call me by an African name when I was a child. But she would not let me use it, and she never spoke it unless we were alone. I have decided to use the name she gave me. I will be Ekwueme." He pronounced it 'Eh-koo-meh'.

"Does it have a meaning?" asked Lizzie.

"It means, 'He says, he does'. My mother taught me that I must be a man of my word in order to do well in this world. And so I shall be!"

"It's perfect! So Fritz is no more?"

Ekwueme smiled. "No, Fritz is a man I knew well and liked. Now I will get to know a new, stronger man who wears his face. Thank you, Miss Lizzie!" He shook her hand politely but warmly. "Thank you for everything. What you have given us will help my men, many of whom have large, hungry families to support."

"Will you be able to recover the carrier?" Lizzie asked.

"No, but I know how to build another one, and the next one will be better! It will have springs! _And _a way to stop it!" He grinned happily, climbed down the ladder to join his men, and soon they were on their way back to land.

Jack turned to his crew. "Sorry mates, shore leave in Portobello has to be canceled. Seems the fellow that got flattened was the son of some city mucky-muck or some such. If we turn up there we could end up decorating nooses at the mouth of their harbor. I think it might be best if we held out for nice, quiet Tortuga!" The men groaned and complained among themselves. Then they set about cleaning up the deck, and weighting the bodies to be dumped overboard.

Jack headed toward his cabin, but Lizzie blocked his way. "I don't want to stay aboard as far as Tortuga! There's not a reason in the world I need to be on this ship. I want to be let off at the very first port we come to. You don't even have to bother with a longboat. Just get me close enough that I can swim to shore. I don't want to stay on this ship one minute longer than I must! You've made it clear enough that I'm an annoyance, and I'm tired of…oh, dammit Jack, I'm tired of being sad all the time."

"Miss Swann, um, Lizzie, uh... oh bugger! Fine, then." He pushed past her and went into the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

. 

A/N: Seat belts buckled? Loose articles all secured? Hang on...


	61. Chapter 61 Compasses and Cottages

_Ch 61 Compasses and Cottages_

The Pearl set sail, bound for Tortuga. Jack was in a foul mood. He had Jacob or Tobias bring all his meals to his cabin. Few people aboard could approach him without setting off another outburst of unjustified invective. He spent a lot of time slamming his cabin door. Tension on the ship was high, and the pirates began arguing with each other. Every few hours, Gibbs was called to interrupt two more men who were getting ready to square off over yet another trivial matter.

Jack and Lizzie circled around each other, avoiding any direct interaction. If she walked out on the main deck, Jack ducked into his cabin, or went below decks. If Jack was forced to pass by where she was working, Lizzie would turn her back and look out to sea, or look up at the sky with her hand above her eyes to shield her face from his gaze. If she had to go up on the quarterdeck for something, he went down the other steps. If he came into the galley, she got up and left.

Despite the ongoing circumvention, she often noticed him staring at her when he didn't think she could see him._  
This is ridiculous! I don't know what he's doing, but I'm tired of it. _

Each night, sleep evaded her. She took up her old post against the main mast looking up at the stars at night, and attempted to catch naps at sunrise and sunset between shifts. Lizzie was becoming more impatient every day.

* * *

.

Mid-morning on the third day at sea found Jack seated on the bowsprit just ahead of the fo'c's'le rail, watching the foam below as his ship cut through the clear turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. His shoulders were slumped, and he absently tossed bits of hardtack into the water as he crushed his uneaten breakfast between his calloused fingers.

Phillip climbed the fo'c's'le stairs and went to stand behind Jack at the bow rail.

"How's yer life, Cap'n?"

"Not good, Mister Wightman. I find myself most decidedly undecided about an issue of unfamiliar sentiment. In short, I don't know what to do about her."

"What're yer options?"

Jack held out his hand and counted off two fingers as he spoke. "One, I could give her what she wants and let her off at the next port. I'd be sad to see the last of her, but she would be safer anywhere but here. Or two, I could try to get her to stay on with the crew. She's an able sailor and a decent fighter. But if she stays, I could never give my full attention to a battle again because I'd be watchin' her back instead of my own. Sooner or later, I'd end up just like…him._ I_ wouldn't be safe if she stayed. Either way, she needs to go."

Phillip said nothing for a long time. Finally he coughed and said, "There's a third, y'know. You don't just want some of the world, Cap'n, you want it all. All the gold, all the rum, all the adventure. But there's a treasure sittin' right out in the open waitin' for ye, and yer afraid to go after it because it might not be safe. If ye'd wanted safety and security, ye'd still be a cartographer in an office somewhere. Are ye goin' ta take a miss on what could be the biggest adventure of your life because ye want to be safe? Maybe it's time to face that fear, Jack, an' set sail for where that compass points… "

Jack didn't respond, didn't even look up. He kept tossing pieces of ship's biscuit into the foam. Phillip remained near Jack for a few moments longer. He briefly put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Unless you want to sail right into Port Royal to shove her overboard, the next nearest port is Tiburon in Haiti. We'll be passin' there just about dawn tomorrow." He left Jack at the rail and went below deck.

Jack watched the bow waves until the last of the hardtack had been dropped, bit by bit, into the sea. He wiped the crumbs from his hands, raised his head and looked over his shoulder at Lizzie. She was seated on a barrel staring out at the sea. Her folded arms pillowed her chin on the rail.

He smiled his finest 'I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and I have a plan' smile, and purred, "'Ello, beastie… "

* * *

.

The pirates were shocked when Jack came strolling calmly into the galley to collect his own dinner instead of sending one of the boys in for it. They were even more surprised when he stayed to eat with them. It was as if nothing had ever been amiss. He laughed and joked as if everything had been fine all along. He even smiled at Lizzie, who picked up her food and fled to her alcove. The crew talked among themselves after he left. "Somethin's goin' ta blow up soon. It's the calm before the storm…"

* * *

.

When supper time came around, Lizzie had no appetite. She passed on the food, drank her grog and went up to her alcove. She had no watch assignment that night, and she hoped she might be able to sleep.

But once again, she found herself unable to even take a brief nap in the darkness. She kicked off her boots and lay restlessly under the steps until after the middle watch had started. After looking around to make sure Jack was not about, she crept out to sit against the main mast. The watch bell rang twice signaling one o'clock in the morning.

The moon was full and the sky was clear. As Lizzie crossed her legs, she felt something in her trouser pocket. Curious, she reached in and pulled out Phillip's small brass compass. She had not used it since the Pearl had left the Pacific. She held it in her hand, trying to guess their heading. But the compass had gotten waterlogged when she went overboard so very long ago, and the needle did not move at all. Even in the moonlight, she could see rust on the face under the glass. Disgusted, Lizzie threw it over the rail.

She inhaled, and suddenly knew that Jack was nearby, the same way she had been able to detect him when the Pearl was still in Lagos Alajuela.

His quiet voice came from behind her. "Now yours doesn't work either? Pity, that. There seems to be a plague of nonfunctional compasses aboard this ship of late. I don't know how we'll ever find a heading this way."

She did not look up at him. "Did you really come out here to complain about being unable to navigate, or is there another reason for your visit?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt you in the middle of anything important, Miss Swann. Begging your pardon, I'll just be on my way then. I came out to offer a white flag, but if it's too much bother..." He turned away.

"Wait! What?"

He turned back, but remained in the moonlight-cast shadow of the main mast. "White flag. Truce. Olive branch. Peace offering. Parley, savvy?"

Lizzie stood up. "I thought we had settled this days ago. You don't want me aboard because I'm in the way. I interfere with your love triangle with the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow and his Black Pearl. So I'm leaving as soon as I can. I'm just waiting for you to sail within swimming distance of a port so I can jump overboard. Savvy?" She slapped his favorite word in his face.

"Elizabeth...Lizzie...Wait!" Jack backed up a step and put his hands up before him in a placating gesture. Then he locked them together behind his back and bounced nervously up and down on his toes. His eyes darted all around the deck, and he looked over his shoulders a few times. When he was satisfied that whatever he was looking for was either there or not there, he took a deep breath.

"It's like this. I, ah, I...don'twantyoutoleavethePearl." It came out with such force that Lizzie took a step backward.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I. Don't. Want. You. To. Leave. The. Pearl." Jack enunciated as clearly as he was able with a tongue as dry as the desert.

Lizzie stood perfectly still, waiting for the inevitable elaborate elaboration that she was sure would soon follow. It didn't come. After an interminable wait, she couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Dammit, Lizzie!" He slammed a fist down on the base of the mast. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"_What_ is?"

He cleared his throat several times. His breathing was fast and shallow. He closed his eyes, stood still and took several slow, deep breaths. When he was breathing almost normally, he rolled his head from side to side, shrugged his shoulders a few times and cracked his neck. Then he opened his eyes, faced Lizzie, inhaled deeply once more and began to speak. His voice sounded a little shaky and his words all came out on one breath.

"Lizzie, I find myself in an unusual and unique predicament of recognizing that I have developed an incomprehensible and entirely unanticipated attachment to a certain female of the feminine persuasion, and I am disconsolate at her aspiration to absent herself from myself and my fine ship in order to further and improve her own skills and self-interests which I firmly believe would be better ameliorated if confederated with my own." He gasped, and gulped in a huge breath of air. "Savvy?"

"Not in the least..." Lizzie was slightly dizzy from trying to follow the rush of words as they flew past her.

"Oh, bugger! Here, look." He took out his compass, and opened it up, holding it out of the mast's shadow so she could see the needle in the moonlight. It didn't even spin around before targeting Lizzie and holding rock steady. Lizzie stared at the compass in disbelief.

"Are you sure it's working?" she asked quietly.

"It hasn't pointed to anything else since...I can't remember when." He was silent for a long moment. "I couldn't say anything. I had to know...I had to be sure..." He stopped again and the sentence hung in the night air.

"Know what, Jack? You had to know what?"

"An extremely large number of things. I had to know if you could actually follow orders, for one."

She frowned, but waited for him to go on.

"After the Kraken swallowed me whole, I sat on the rubbish and wreckage inside it for who knows how long. Nasty place that... sometimes I think I can still smell the beastie."

Lizzie didn't tell him that sometimes she thought she could smell the Kraken too, and she was fairly certain that the odor was coming from his beloved hat.

There was another long pause. He shuddered, came back to the present and went on.

"The only thing that kept me sane was thinking of you. At first all I wanted to do was kill you, to pay you back for tricking me. It gave me something to focus on besides where I was. But that kiss, Lizzie...it haunted me. Maybe I was hallucinating, but it felt like you wanted more. But I didn't know what you wanted more _of_. Was it actually me, or was it only what I could offer you that Turner couldn't? The thought of somehow finding out, that's what prodded me into cutting m'way out of the Kraken. More nasty business..."

He shook his head and a brief flash of queasiness crossed his face.

"But I couldn't find a way to escape Jones' Purgatory alone. When you walked in I thought I had somehow gone to Heaven by mistake."

Lizzie smiled. "Heaven? Really, Jack, isn't that a bit far-fetched even for you?"

"I thought you said I was a good man! Don't good men go to Heaven?"

"Well, mostly, I'd think."

"So was I right?"

Lizzie was confused by the sudden change of subject. "Right about what?"

"_Did _you want more?"

"At that moment? In all honesty, I don't know. I was acting on selfish impulse for the very first time ever, remember? Five minutes before that I had thought I wanted to marry Will and settle down as the wife of a blacksm--"

"Bugger, Lizzie! I can't... I can't give you a cottage with a garden and a picket fence and all that goes with it... "

"Jack, why would you think I wanted any of that? I could have had all of it, remember? If I had wanted those things, would I even be here? You have never once asked me what I want! Give me that compass, please!"

He held it out to her. She took it from him and held it out at arms' length in front of her, cupped in both hands like a child would hold a butterfly. She shut her eyes and opened the compass. The needle snapped into alignment pointed directly at Jack. Lizzie opened her eyes and walked in a slow deliberate circle around Jack, looking at the compass she held in her outstretched hands. Jack pivoted slowly as he watched the needle of the compass. It rotated as she moved, remaining pointed at him until she was back where she had started. She closed the compass and handed it back him. He hung it on his belt, but never took his eyes off of Lizzie.

She spoke softly. "There. Now you know. It wasn't and isn't and never was what you can offer me. It's you."

Jack swallowed loudly. He looked around the deck one more time, as if seeking a last way out. Then he looked into her amber brown eyes, moonlight casting shadows around his own darker ones. His face was tense and somber. "Lizzie... I can't promise that we'll both wake up tomorrow. I can't guarantee that we won't both end up hanged or shot or stabbed or drowned, or be forced to watch each other die."

"I have never asked you for those kinds of promises or guarantees, Jack. I don't remember asking for anything except the opportunity to be who and what I am."

"I'm willing to give you that, if you'll stay."

Lizzie's breath caught in her throat. "I'll stay, Jack. I never wanted to leave! But I didn't want to hamper your freedom either."

He stepped closer to her until he was standing right in front of her, looking down into her eyes.

"I can't say this is going to be easy, love. This is all new for me, and I haven't learned anything new in a very long time. It's like as not to be quite a trial for you. But I'll give it a go if you will."

She reached for his hands. "Of course I will, Jack. I love you."

"Of course you do, Lizzie! I'm Captain..." He interrupted himself as he pulled her to him, and their lips met in the kiss neither had believed would ever happen.


	62. Chapter 62 Two O'clock in the Morning

_Ch 62 Two O'clock in the Morning_

The kiss went on for some time, until Jack's hand drifted up Lizzie's side to her breast. She inhaled sharply at the sensation, pulled back and took his hand off of her body quite primly. "Jack, I may be a pirate, but I still have _some_ morals. There's still the matter of my honor to consider!"

Jack groaned. "Oh...bugger your honor! And here I thought this was going to be difficult for _you_! Fine then, explain it to me straight. What does it take to satisfy the morals that are protecting this 'honor'?"

Lizzie grimaced.

"Sorry, love, like I said, this is all new to me. The life I know, if a lass is still pure by the age of twelve, she's grown up in a convent. Morals are a whole different story outside the Governor's mansion."

"I understand that. But I've made a huge leap from the life I knew to this one, and it is quite difficult to abandon all of one's upbringing and one's moral beliefs in an instant. Do believe me when I say I have given this subject much consideration..."

Jack's eyebrows raised and his mouth widened into a grin, gold teeth shining. "Do tell?"

Lizzie blushed. "I most certainly will not! At least not _now_."

Jack's face fell. "Someday then?"

"Maybe."

"So, back to your honor. Please do enlighten me as to how these things work themselves out where you come from."

Lizzie smiled. Finally, a subject she knew well.

"First, we must assume that the lady in question is not being forced into an arranged marriage. That is an entirely different matter." She shuddered the same way Jack had while he was speaking about being inside the Kraken.

"In the usual way of a courtship, a gentleman takes a fancy to a lady. He requests permission from her parents to begin to court her. If she finds him agreeable, the courtship continues. She spends time with him getting to know one another better, closely supervised and chaperoned to protect her honor and virtue, of course."

It was Jack's turn to grimace.

"This continues until the suitor proposes marriage. If she accepts, they are betrothed and an engagement is announced. The wedding is planned and living arrangements are made. The bride maintains her virtue until the wedding night, saving herself for her husband. And that's how it's done in where I come from, Jack." She could feel herself blushing, and looked down at the deck to avoid meeting Jack's eyes.

"Doesn't sound so hard!"

Lizzie snapped her head up to look at Jack, all traces of embarrassment forgotten. He went on speaking, ticking off a list on his fingers as he spoke.

"Fellow takes a fancy to a lady. Done. He requests permission from her parents, impossible, so skip that. She finds him agreeable. That seems to be accomplished. She spends time with him. Finally got that bit right. Bugger the chaperone, though. Getting to know each other better… what's to know?"

"Lots of things, Jack. You don't even know my middle name, do you?"

"Do I need to? Is it so awful I'd run screaming when I hear it?"

Lizzie laughed out loud. "No! It's Sophia, after my father's only sister."

"'S not so bad then! Is there anything you don't know about me that might discomfit or dismay?"

"Are there any wives or children in your past?"

Jack looked horrified and shook his head vigorously.

"No? That's a relief! How old are you?"

"Why do you want to know _that_?"

"Just curious. I want to know if that pirate story book got anything at all right about you."

"In truth, I'm thirty four, nigh onto thirty five. Does that change anything?"

"No, but I am going to write to that publisher and tell him to knock some years off your age when next he reprints that book!"

"How many years?"

"You really don't want to know, Jack..."

"How old are you, Lizzie?"

"I turned twenty four while we were searching for you."

Jack laughed at her answer. "I'm not a cradle snatcher after all! So...is there anything else regarding myself about which you're curious?"

"I can't think of anything at the moment...oh, wait! Tell me about your new tattoo."

Jack pulled his head back and squinted at her. "What new tattoo?"

Lizzie gently touched his collarbone. "The one right here. The little swan."

"Oh… that's not new, I've had it for a couple of years. It's a souvenir."

"Of what?"

"After that business with Barbossa and the cursed gold was finished, I wanted a remembrance. But I didn't come away from it with any sort of token I could tie into my hair. So I got the ink done instead, right where it would lay if it was on one o'my ropes here." He opened his shirt and pulled the long beaded lock with the coin dangling from it forward onto his chest. The coin rested right over the swan.

"Why a swan?" Lizzie had to know.

"You were the most memorable part of the whole affair. I was sure I'd never see you again. Notorious pirate? Governor's daughter? Not likely to cross paths twice. I wanted a keepsake to remember you by."

The more she thought about his reply, the wider Lizzie's smile became.

"When did you realize that you love me?"

"Did I say that?"

"You mean, you don't?" Lizzie took a step back from him, dismayed.

"I didn't say that either!"

"Which is it, Jack? I think that would be a very important part of getting to know one another better."

Worriment of what he might say sent a chill through her body. She crossed her arms and rubbed them with her hands to ease the gooseflesh.

Jack chewed on his lower lip for a moment, pondering his reply. He reached for Lizzie's hands with both of his. "I told you, this is all new for me. You're makin' a huge leap, and so am I. I've never been one to talk about feelings, Lizzie. I've always believed that when it comes to the really important things, actions do speak louder than words. I asked you to stay because… because I want to be with you. Can that be enough, for now?"

Lizzie considered the question. She'd become accustomed to hearing Will constantly telling her how much he loved her, adored her, worshipped her. The fact that Jack didn't, wouldn't, say the words that she wanted, expected to hear greatly distressed her. _But Jack certainly isn't anything like Will. I shouldn't expect him to act like Will. _

She thought of the swan tattoo. _That's permanent. It's not just words. And it was there before we met again. _Her smile reappeared.

"Yes, Jack, that can be enough." She added silently, _I can wait._

Jack squeezed her hands as he returned her smile. "Is there anything else you want to know about me? Ask now or live with it."

"No… What do you mean, 'live with it'?"

"Then it's settled!"

"_What's_ settled?"

"In for a penny, in for a pound…"

* * *

.

Jack let go of her hands and stepped back a pace. For a minute he reminded Lizzie of her teen-aged male shipmates who had blushed to the ears whenever she walked past them. He looked at his boots, looked up at the stars, looked anywhere but at her. Then he stood up straight, took her hand in both of his, and knelt down on one knee in front of her. His gaze swept up from her feet to her face, taking in all of her. The slightest ocean breeze could have pushed Lizzie over. Astonishment and incredulity made her knees weaken and her head spin.

He took a long, deep breath and held it for a few seconds before speaking.

"Lizzie, I proposed to you once, offering to perform a marr-i-age ceremony, right here on this deck. I'm offering again, right here, right now. If you refuse this time, after all the fighting and the fretting, I'm putting you overboard in a barrel. So what'll it be, Lizzie, aye or nay?"

Lizzie started to giggle. She tried to hold it in, but ended up wheezing and gasping and had to bite her knuckles to keep from laughing out loud.

Jack looked insulted and pouted like a child, but he remained on bended knee on the deck before her, clutching her other hand. "What's so bloody funny, wench? I just proposed to marry you!"

"I..." she snorted and covered her mouth. "I...I'm sorry, Jack, I truly am. It's just that I've never had such a romantic sentiment put to me in quite that way before!"

Pique tinged Jack's voice as he replied. "I suppose you're quite the expert on being proposed to, this being at least your fourth time and all. For all I know there may have been others before old Norrington!

Lizzie's giggles dissolved into righteous indignation. "Unfair! There were no others! I didn't _want_ James to propose, I never _expected_ Will to propose, and I had no idea _you_ were serious the first time you proposed! I thought you were just trying to get me into your bed!"

"I was, then. But I might well have done it if you had agreed, and if I'd had a lot more rum."

"Truly?"

Jack heaved a huge, put-upon sigh. "Why doesn't anyone ever believe me?"

"Jack?"

"Yes, Lizzie?"

"It's aye."

The watch bell rang four times.

* * *

.

As Jack stood up, he stepped out of the shadow of the mast. It was then that Lizzie noticed it, glinting in the moonlight; he was wearing a different sword belt than the one that held his cutlass. This one had a large, ornate buckle, and a long dark scabbard with a throat and drag made of deeply detailed bright metal. The elaborate guard of the sword settled perfectly around the throat of the scabbard. In the moonlight she could see that the sculpted bars of the dark steel guard were formed into the shape of a leaf. The hilt had been wrapped and tied with deep scarlet cord, ending with an intricate sword knot.

"Jack?" She touched the pommel of his sword gingerly, half expecting her fingers to pass through it. It was just as solid as her own sword, just as cool, just as detailed. "What's this?" she asked softly.

"Something I've been trying to avoid thinking about for a very long time."

He unsheathed the sword and held it out to her. She lifted it at hilt and tip, and looked at the swirled metal blade in the bright moonlight. It was just as perfect as her own, and identical in almost every way. Next to the fuller was an engraved phrase. But it wasn't the same quote that was on her sword.

It read: _Nec mortem effugere quisquam nec amorem potest_

Lizzie struggled with the Latin for a few moments before it made sense. She looked at Jack, wide-eyed, and translated it out loud. "No one is able to flee from death or love."

His eyes closed briefly as he nodded to confirm her translation. When he looked at her, an almost bashful smile crept across his lips. "I don't want to run anymore."

He took the sword from her and put it back in the scabbard. When it was secure, he stepped close to Lizzie and took her in his arms.

Lizzie whispered the words of the engraving from her own sword into his ear.

"_Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens. _With you I should love to live, with you be ready to die."


	63. Chapter 63 Sixpence and Old Lace

_**CH 63 Sixpence and Old Lace**_

The next kiss was even better than the last one. Lizzie felt her legs turning to rubber underneath her. _If this keeps up, I'm going to melt into a puddle on the deck... _

Jack's hand brought her back to reality by sliding up her side again. She snapped her arm down against her ribs, trapping the wayward hand before it reached its intended destination. "Jack, my honor, remember? Have you forgotten already?"

Jack exhaled loudly and grumbled. "Oh… Bugger your honor!" He pulled his hand away.

"I think I've heard that before. I'm sorry Jack. If you really do intend to marry me, you can bugger my honor all you want after the wedding's over!"

Jack laughed out loud. "I don't believe you have the slightest notion of what you just said!"

He startled her by pulling away and running across the deck and up the fo'c's'le steps. He grabbed the rope of the ship's bell in front of the dumbfounded pirate on watch, and rang it rapidly while shouting "All hands on deck! Get your lazy arses up here!" The crew began spilling out of both hatches shouting in confusion. Some were pulling on pants or shirts as they ran, and most of them carried cutlasses or guns.

Gibbs arrived holding up his lantern, and he was yelling as soon as he got out of the hatchway. "Captain, what in the name of all that's holy is going on? Are we under attack?"

Jack bounded halfway down the steps, and waved his arms to get the crew's attention. When they were all staring at him, he smiled and waved a hand at them in greeting. "Hello, gentlemen! Good to see all of you tonight! I have some important news to share with you, and it can't wait until morning."

The pirates all started talking at once; what could possibly be so important that Jack had to wake them up in the middle of the night?

Jack pushed his way through the crowd to reach Lizzie, who was still standing near the main mast. He waved his hands above his head, and garnered enough of the pirates' attention to quell some of the noise. He cupped his hands around his mouth to make sure he was heard, and shouted.

"Miss Swann has just agreed to join with me in a relationship of the connubial nature!"

The silence that fell over the pirates was swift and thick. Not a man spoke for half a minute, until Marty pushed his way to the front of the crowd and said "Captain, you woke us all up just to tell us that you're going to f--"

Jack cut him off hastily. "No, y'twit! She's agreed to marry me! Right here, and right now!"

* * *

. 

The bow waves splashing against the hull of the Black Pearl were deafening in the silent seconds that followed this statement. The pirates looked at each other, slack-jawed in astonishment. _This_ was the storm that followed Jack's sudden calm of earlier? They'd been expecting one hell of a fight between the two, not a wedding.

Finally Phillip broke the silence. "It's about damned time!" Even in the dark, his smile was evident in his words. The pirates responded with loud and enthusiastic cheering. Men began elbowing each other and holding out their hands to collect bets.

Jack clapped his hands above his head and waved his arms to get their attention. When they finally quieted, he spoke. "It certainly is, Mister Wightman! I've called you all up on deck to be witnesses to the marr-i-age ceremony, so no one can complain later that they weren't invited. Mister Gibbs, if you would be so kind as to make yourself useful and bring that lantern over here?"

Gibbs moved like a man in a trance as he pushed through the group to get to the mast. He hung the lantern on a nail. "Captain, I don't know what changed your mind, but I'm glad of it." He lowered his voice. "The crew was getting' tired of you two circlin' each other like sharks. The tension was makin' 'em start wantin' to kill each other, and I'm sick o' breakin' up their fights! But as yer friend and yer first mate, I've got to ask, Jack. Are ye sober? Will ye remember this in the morning? Should I remind ye about this tomorrow?"

"Let's leave _that_ job to her, shall we?" Jack put his hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "Mister Gibbs, I think I'm more sober than I've ever been. We're down to our last cask of rum, and it hasn't been opened yet. I haven't had a drop in days."

Gibbs replied, "I'm less likely to believe _that _than I am that you're getting' married!

Jack ignored him, and turned back to Lizzie. She was lightheaded from the abruptness of the unexpected events of the past few minutes. She put one hand on the mast to steady herself and wondered what was going to happen next. Jack spoke quietly. "I'm sorry if you had hoped for a fancy gown and flowers, love, but I'll make it up to you. I think I know just the way." His smile was light-hearted, but his dark, laughing eyes held many secrets.

* * *

. 

Ragetti, who had pushed up to the front of the crowd to have a better view, shouted, "Wait! I'll be back quick as a wink!", and dashed off. He disappeared down the hatch steps.

Lizzie shook her head to clear it. _Is this really happening? Am I really about to marry a pirate captain at two o'clock in the morning on the deck of a ship in front of thirty three half-dressed pirates?_ She looked at the scene around her and laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. Then she looked up at Jack. As she watched, a fleet of emotions sailed rapidly across his visage in turn; elation, trepidation, disbelief and wonder. Not even the most vivid imagination could conjure that complex expression in a dream; this had to be real. _Yes, I bloody well am! _ A surge of happiness made her laugh out loud again.

Ragetti reappeared in less than a minute with an object in each hand. He hurried to Lizzie and handed her a long piece of hand-tatted lace that had most likely been a lovely dresser scarf in a former life. "There's yer veil, Miss Elizabef! This belonged to me mum!" he wheezed, out of breath.

Pintel grumbled, "Not on yer life! They belonged to _my_ mum, which means they was your grandmum's, ye ijit! Keep the family heirlooms straight!" He whacked his nephew on the back of the head, and Ragetti barely got a hand across the wooden eye in time to prevent it from becoming airborne.

Next Ragetti gave Lizzie the remains of a bouquet of dried flowers, long since bereft of most of the petals. There was no telling if they had once been daisies, lilies, or weeds. The stems were tied with a wide velvet ribbon that may have started out as blue, but had mostly faded to patchy lavender. The yellow glow of the lantern light did nothing to enhance the color. "And there's yer flowers!" he said proudly.

"So there's yer something borrowed and something blue, and they're both old in the bargain! All ye need is something new and a sixpence in yer shoe, and ye'll be all lucky-like!" He took the lace back from Lizzie and arranged it over her hair and shoulders, leaving her face uncovered. When the lace was set to his satisfaction he wiped a tear from his good eye. "I love weddin's!"

Lizzie smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Ragetti! I'm afraid I'm not wearing any shoes though, so a sixpence would be of no use. And there's nothing new on the ship, so this will have to do. I truly do appreciate your thoughtfulness!" She kissed him lightly on the cheek. Ragetti burst into tears. "I'm so proud!" he wailed as Pintel took him by the arm to lead him back to the edge of the group of pirates.

Pintel turned back to Lizzie and touched her gently under the tip of her chin with his forefinger. He shook his head in amazement. "Our little poppet's all growed up and gettin' married!" He turned away quickly and Lizzie heard him sniffle loudly as he led Ragetti back to the edge of the group of pirates.

Jack studied the 'veil' for a moment. "Ah, a _mantilla_! Perfect!" He nodded his approval at Ragetti. Then he tilted his head to one side and asked Lizzie, "But what's a sixpence got to do with a wedding?"

"There's an old rhyme about things meant to bestow good fortune on the marriage. 'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in her shoe'. Old and new things to tie the past and future together, something borrowed for luck, something blue for fidelity, and a sixpence for fortune."

Jack pondered this for a bit. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small pouch and felt around in it until he found the coin he was seeking. He bent down, lifted Lizzie's bare foot and put the sixpence under it. "Anything that will bring us fortune is alright by me. Here, stand on this. I'll be wantin' it back later." He winked at her. "As for something new...hmm...will I do?"

Lizzie smiled. "I believe you'll suffice".

Jack faced the pirates. "Dearly beloved, or in your cases, bilge rats" he began, and then paused. "You've been hauled out of your bunks tonight to witness the marr-ia-ge of Captain Jack Sparrow and Miss Elizabeth...um...Sophia Swann. Uh, ahhh, errr... I now pronounce us—"

"Oh NO you don't!" Lizzie interrupted.

Jack looked puzzled. "What?"

"You can't just skip the whole ceremony!"

"It's been a right long time since I performed a wedding ceremony, Lizzie. Only did it once, actually, and that time I had a book to follow. I don't remember all the words!"

* * *

. 

A/N: For those of you who are giggling at the thought of Lizzie getting married with a tablecloth over her head, here (I hope) is a link to a picture of what I pictured as I wrote the scene. If FFN eats the link, drop me a PM if you want to see the picture. http://www (dot) fgemz (dot) com/mantilla.jpg


	64. Chapter 64 Buxom and Bonny

_Ch 64 Buxom and Bonny _

"I can help you with that part!" Lizzie smiled brightly. "All little girls memorize the wedding vows, and play at pretending to be brides, and plan their weddings, never mind that they're not even old enough to be courted yet! I'll whisper the words, and you say them out loud. When it's my turn to repeat something, I'll do the same, and then I'll repeat what you say."

She whispered, "_We are gathered here tonight in the sight of God and in the face of this company"..._

Jack whispered back, "_We are gathered_..."

"_No! Say it out loud! To them!"_ Lizzie gestured with her thumb toward the bewildered pirates.

"Oh." He looked at the crew. "We're standin' here tonight in the face of God..."

Lizzie winced, but whispered, _"__to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony…"._

Jack managed to get that part right, although he did raise his eyebrows at the word 'holy'.

"_...which is an honorable estate, instituted of God, and therefore is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and soberly."_

"...which is an honorable—_honorable_? Lizzie, we're _pirates!"_

"_Get on with it Jack_!" she hissed.

"Say it again."

Lizzie did not recall seeing a copy of The Book of Common Prayer in Jack's book cabinet. She decided that shortening the wordy ceremony might be safer than trying to guide Jack through those waters without liturgical assistance. "..._estate __instituted of God and not to be entered into lightly, but reverently and soberly."_

Jack repeated what she said, and was answered by a guffaw from someone standing outside the circle of lantern light. "Soberly? Jack? Not a bleedin' chance!"

Jack reached for his sword while scanning the crowd for the source of the voice. Lizzie grabbed his hand. "No, Jack! Not _now!"_ Jack grunted and reluctantly released the sword.

"What comes next? Can I kiss the bride?"

"_No… not yet!"_ She whispered the next part to him. _"If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else forever hold his peace."_

"I am _not_ going to give this lot that chance! We'd never hear the last of it!"

Lizzie's childhood dreams of the perfect wedding drifted further and further out to sea as the ceremony progressed.

"_We're coming up to your part, Jack. Just repeat exactly what I say, or you'll ruin everything. Savvy?"_

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. "You're not going to try to make me agree to cook and clean, are you?"

She glared at him from under the lace, with tightened lips and narrowed eyes.

"Alright, savvy already!"

"_Jack Sparrow, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, cleave thyself only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"_

Jack looked at Lizzie sideways. "Lizzie, am I talking to myself here?"

"_You're the one performing the ceremony..."_

"And what happened to 'for richer and poorer'? I distinctly recall that bit. I definitely want the richer part in there!"

"_That comes later!" _

"Oh. CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, will I take this woman to my wedded wife? I will."

"_Jack, you have to say the rest of it too..."_

"Will I...what was it again?"

"_...love her, comfort her, honor her, keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, cleave thyself only unto her as long as ye both shall live."_

"Will I comfort her, honor her, keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others..."

Jack stopped. His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed once in farewell-- or was it good riddance?-- to memories of women he had known, figuratively or literally, over the past two decades.

"_Jack?_"

"...cleave myself only unto her for as long as we both shall live. I will!"

He winked at Lizzie and whispered, _"When do we get to the cleaving part?"_

"Jack!" Lizzie blushed crimson. When she'd recovered her composure she said softly, _"You still skipped over a bit, Jack."  
_

"What bit?"

"_The first bit. Wilt thou love her?"_ She shrugged apologetically. _"It's part of the ceremony."_

Jack took a deep breath and said, "Wiltthouloveher?Iwill."

Lizzie exhaled quietly. Not surprisingly, her portion went smoothly. She whispered what Jack should say, he repeated it and she echoed it aloud, ending with "I will". Jack reached to kiss her.

"_Not yet! We still have to repeat the vows!"_

"What was all that we just did, then?"

"_That was just the formal betrothal!"_

Jack shook his head impatiently. "How much more is there?"

"_Not a lot more. You might like the rest."_

She turned to Ragetti. "Mister Ragetti, would you be so kind as to hold my bouquet while we take the vows?"

Ragetti stepped forward proudly and took the tattered flowers from her. As she turned away from him, he fussily rearranged the lace so it fell neatly over Lizzie's shoulders. He sniffled loudly, and Pintel slipped him a filthy handkerchief.

Lizzie turned to face Jack fully and reached for both of his hands. He gripped her fingers hard, and she felt just a hint of nervous trembling in his hands as he held hers.

"_We're almost through, Jack. __This next part is the vows." _She squeezed his hands briefly, to try to hide the shaking in her own.

"_I, Jack Sparrow, take thee, Elizabeth Swann to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer..."_

"I, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, take thee, Lizzie Swann to my wedded wife, to have and to hold—much having and holding, please—from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer and richer yet..."

"…_in fair weather or foul, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."_

"In fair weather or foul, in sickness and in health, to..."

He looked at Lizzie. Her eyes were locked on his, and she wasn't speaking, or moving, or smiling, or frowning. She was just waiting.

His grip on her fingers tightened. His hands were sweating.He cleared his throat, and said quietly, "...to love and to cherish till death do us part." He exhaled hard and Lizzie felt the tension leave his hands.

Lizzie sighed happily, her smile radiant in the moonlight. "My turn." She spoke clearly so that all could hear her.

"I, Elizabeth Swann take thee, Captain Jack Sparrow to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to be bonny and buxom at bed and at board, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

"Ooooh-- bonny and buxom in bed—that's the best bit yet!"

Lizzie's expression instantly changed from happy to dismayed. She whispered_, "Oh dear, this is the part where there's supposed to be a ring..."_

Jack grasped her left hand in his left hand, and squeezed her ring finger with the fingers of his right. _"Jack, what are you doing?"_ Lizzie tried to pull away, but he held on until he had felt up and down the length of that finger several times. Then he started feeling each of his own fingers.

"Aha!" he laughed, and pulled a ring off his hand. "This'll have to do until we can come up with a better one for you, love!" In the moon-cast shadow of the mast, Lizzie couldn't see which ring he had removed.

"Go on, Lizzie, let's get this done with before the lads get bored with all the chatter and elect Cotton the new captain."

Both of them felt and heard a quiet, deep thrumming sound begin to resonate from high up in the rigging. They both smiled, but neither looked up.

Lizzie whispered, "_With this Ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow; In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."_

The deep hum sound grew louder.

Jack's eyes were as dark and unfathomable as the deepest sea as he spoke. "With this ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow, and yes, I _am_ fully aware of _exactly_ what that entails; In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

The thrumming sound from the rigging modulated into polyphonic progressions like the pealing of many cathedral bells. As if invisible fingers were plucking the simple hempen ropes, the rigging of the Pearl was, for just a moment, transformed into a seagoing harp. Jack and Lizzie both reached out a hand to touch the mast at the same moment, and smiled at each other knowingly. No one else on the deck heard a thing.

Jack placed the ring on the fourth finger of Lizzie's left hand. She held her hand out so the moonlight shone on the ring. She was wearing Jack's emerald borne by two silver skulls. It was the ring she thought was the ugliest of all his trinkets, yet it fit her finger like it had been made just for her. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, so she did both at once. Shoulders shaking, she took the bouquet back from Ragetti. He turned and began bawling like a baby on Pintel's shoulder. "Awww, that were just like in the story books!"

Jack murmured to Lizzie. "I think I remember the last part…"

Lizzie sniffled once, and still laughing, said "Go ahead Jack, finish the ceremony!"

Jack shouted, "Finally! By the power invested in me as captain of the finest pirate vessel ever to sail the seas, I now pronounce us husband and wife, and I may kiss my bride!" And he did.


	65. Chapter 65 Who's Next?

_Ch 65 Who's Next?_

The pirate crew erupted into whistling, cheering, foot stomping applause. Several of the men fired their pistols into the air, until Gibbs stopped them with warnings about attracting any Navy vessels that might be in the area. Jack and Lizzie continued kissing, oblivious to the din. Gibbs walked up behind Jack and cleared his throat. "Beggin' yer pardons, Captain and, er, Missus Captain?"

"What is it, Gibbs?" mumbled Jack, without turning around.

"I just thought perhaps ye'd like to move that somewhere else before ye scorch the deck, that's all."

Jack straightened enough to turn his head toward Gibbs without letting go of Lizzie, whose knees were quite weak and in need of support.

"Oh, right." He spoke quietly to Lizzie. "Hold that thought, love, I've got captain-y things to take care of first."

He turned slightly more toward Gibbs. "Mister Gibbs, you're in charge until further notice. Kill anyone who even jokes about mutiny. Drop anchor, furl the sails, douse the transom lamps, and break out the last cask of rum. Give everybody two mugs each. The crew deserves it after putting up with all that babbling!"

Gibbs laughed. "Aye, Cap'n! I'd say they deserve more than that after the last few days!"

Jack frowned at him momentarily, then he smiled and nodded. "As you see fit, then. All hands are to remain up on the fo'c's'le or below decks in the common area. Empty the quarterdeck, and set a lookout for Navy ships atop the forward mast. At two bells on the morning watch, get us moving again. We're too near to Port Royal to be anchored here when the sun comes up. Set sail for Tortuga. I'm sure Mister Phillip can get you there without my help."

He started to turn back to Lizzie, who'd been leaning against his chest wrapped in his arms. He stopped. "Oh, and Gibbs! Spread the word. If anybody disturbs us for anything less than another Kraken, I swear I will shoot them through the cabin door!" He turned his back on Gibbs and returned his attention to his bride.

Gibbs bellowed at the crew, suddenly all business, except for the huge smile on his round face. "Alright, you scum, listen up! Step lively! Furl the sails and drop the anchor, then all hands to the fo'c's'le to celebrate the Captain's wedding! Wightman, Buckner, Moore, go get yer instruments, this calls for some music! Somebody get the mugs! I'm off in a trice to get the rum from the locker. Wood, you're on lookout atop the forward mast. Somebody'll relieve ye in an hour so you can join in. And everybody stay the hell away from the Captain's cabin on pain of death!"

Before the crew could scatter to their tasks, Lizzie pulled away from Jack and shouted, "Wait! I have to throw the bouquet to see who'll get married next!" She spun around to face away from the pirates and threw the flowers over her shoulder. A raucous shout went up, followed by catcalls and laughter. She turned around to see a very red-faced Jacob, with dried flower petals on his face and the remains of the bouquet held gingerly between two fingers like a dead fish.

Lizzie tossed the piece of lace to Ragetti and smiled at him as she mouthed the words 'thank you'. Then she turned back to Jack.

In one smooth move, he bent and picked up the sixpence off the deck, then swept Lizzie effortlessly up in his arms as he straightened. He winked at her. "I don't have a threshold to carry you over, love. Will the Captain's cabin door do?"'

"The Pearl really is my home now, isn't she? I think the Captain's cabin door is better than any threshold!"

Jack knocked the door latch open with his boot and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He set her on her feet, locked the door and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. "Now, love," he murmured throatily into her ear, "about that honor..."


	66. Chapter 66 Wedding Gifts

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the movie characters. They all belong to Disney. I'm just having fun. Don't sue.

M rating warning: If you are under sixteen years of age, or if you are my mother-in-law, please skip over this chapter and also chapter 67.  
Go do something else until I post chapter 68. Yeah, right…

_Ch 66 Wedding Gifts_

The forgotten sixpence in Jack's hand fell to the deck and rolled away into the shadows cast by the candle's light. While Jack's lips made a thorough study of Lizzie's, his hands traversed up and down the topography of her back from her thighs to her head. They made careful note of the most interesting portions as they surveyed. Lizzie returned his kisses ardently, and Jack's hands were not deterred from their explorations by any unwelcome mentions of 'honor'.

But when his fingers became tangled in her dirty hair, she pulled away from him, suddenly mindful of her appearance. "Jack, I'm so sorry! I'm filthy and matted, not at all how a bride should look for her husband on her wedding night…" She looked away from him, deeply embarrassed.

Jack's voice was low and throaty. "Dirt doesn't bother me. I think you look and feel just fine, love. Just fine…" His actions attested his words as he kissed her passionately. He pressed his body to hers, backing her gently up against the wall. To his dismay, Lizzie's response was awkward and ill at ease, quite unlike moments earlier. Jack kissed her once more and got the same result. He released her and took a step back. Lizzie felt even worse when she saw his expression. _This is not going well… not married for even ten minutes, and I'm already a disappointment._

Jack looked down at her and sighed quietly. "You'll have to get used to the idea that it's impossible to stay clean on a ship, love. There's no way around it. But tonight's a special night. It's been a very long time in the making." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "If a little dirt and a few tangles bothers you so much that it's distracting you from _our_wedding night… well, let's see what can be done about that." He took her hand, put his other arm around her waist and led her to a carved mahogany chest of drawers built into the wall of the cabin.

From one of the drawers, he pulled out a wood handled hair brush and a heavy tortoise shell comb. Lizzie's smile at the sight of them could have lit the room. "How wonderful!" He held them out to her. She took the comb and began to try to comb out her hair. "Ouch! Owwww! Oh, this is hopeless!"

"You're not used to combing knots out of your hair, are you?" Jack took the comb from her.

"Yes, I am, but it's never been _this_ badly tangled before!"

"Here, let me. You don't just start combing from the top of your head. You grab a handful and hold onto it, and comb from the ends first. That way it doesn't hurt as much." He demonstrated on a hank of Lizzie's hair. "See? Much easier, isn't it?" He worked his way up to the top of that handful, shook loose the hair that came out in the teeth of the comb, and took another handful. As he sunk the comb into it, she screeched. "OW!"

Jack lifted up her hair to inspect the mat at the base of her neck. "You've got a good rat's nest goin' there. That's not going to comb out, love. I'm going to have to cut it to get it loose. Here, hold your hair up out of m'way."

He pulled out his knife, and carefully cut the thick mat of hair away from Lizzie's neck. By the time he was done, the lower third of the hair on the back of her head was just over an inch in length. When she released the rest of her hair, the shortened section was hidden. Lizzie breathed a huge sigh of relief that she could move her head again without feeling her hair being pulled.

"I think the rest of it will comb out now." He sat down on the bench at the rear of the cabin, and patted the seat. "Here, come sit in front of me."

Lizzie sat on the bench between his knees. He carefully combed out her hair, occasionally stopping to kiss up and down the sides of her neck or nuzzle her ears. She shivered and inhaled sharply when his mustache swept across her skin, and he smiled to himself. When he was done combing out the tangles, he brushed her hair with long, slow strokes. They could both feel the tension in her neck and shoulders ease as he brushed.

Lizzie sighed happily. "Jack, how is it that you're so good getting tangles out of a lady's hair?" He set the brush aside, and his arms settled around her waist, encouraging her to lean back against him. When she did, his hands wandered around lazily, mapping more geography. He was rewarded with small gasps and sighs as his fingers skimmed lightly over unexplored territories. He answered her between nibbles on her ear.

"My own hair wasn't always in these braids and locks, love. My mum passed along her family's curse of curly hair. Curly hair and sea air don't mix. I was a tangled fright for a long time until some Africans I sailed with showed me how to make it into these ropes. These," he gestured to the brush and comb, "haven't seen much use since!"

Jack nuzzled her ear once more, shifted her off the seat and got up. "I think I have something else in the drawers here that you might like…" He made a quick adjustment to his trousers before crossing the room, chuckling to himself. He returned to the chest of drawers and after searching for a moment, triumphantly pulled out a loosely woven muslin cloth bag with a drawstring of ribbon. He presented it to her as if it were made of gold. Inside the bag was something the size of his fist, roughly square and hard. Before she even opened it, the smell of coconuts wafted up to her nose. She gave him another enormous smile. "Soap! Jack, thank you!" Her smile fell away. "Oh...there's no bath tub aboard…"

Jack touched her chin and said "Who needs that? We're sailing on the biggest bathtub in the world!"

He led her to the rear of the cabin. There were three central sets of windows above a padded bench, flanked by an elaborately carved wooden panel on each side. He went to one of the carved panels, and turned a latch. The panel opened inward, creating a door that led directly out of the back of the cabin.

Lizzie leaned out just far enough to look down from the opening. There was no deck outside the door, just a narrow ledge and a long drop to the dark ocean below. Jack smiled. "Captain's got to have a private entrance and exit, savvy?"

He lifted the cushions on the bench under the window, revealing storage bins. He reached into a bin and pulled out a long rope ladder. He tied the ladder to a cleat just inside the opening and tossed it out into the darkness.

"If you don't want it to get wet, leave it in here!" Jack began stripping off his clothes and weapons. He left on his pants, but emptied the pockets onto the table. Lizzie took off her vest, sword belt and knife, and laid them on the table next to Jack's belongings. She was already barefoot, so she was left in her shirt and trousers.

"Your bath awaits, milady!" Jack picked up the muslin bag, slipped the drawstrings around his wrist and started down the ladder. About halfway down he turned and dove in.

Lizzie followed him into the comfortably warm water. She surfaced and slicked her wet hair out of her face. Jack swam effortlessly in circles around her as she floated.

The sea was calm, and the moonlight reflected across the surface, creating the illusion of a wide, gently shimmering white road leading to the horizon. The stars glittered overhead on the onyx black night sky. As Jack's movements disturbed the water, it glowed around him with tiny sparks of pale green light. Lizzie thought it looked like he was swimming in the sky, stirring the stars.

She watched her own hands move in the water, and saw the tiny green sparks swirl around them too. Jack saw what she was looking at. "It's tiny beasties that live in the sea. They glow when they're touched." He added quietly, "So do you."

She hooked an arm through the ladder so she could rest. She watched Jack as he began to rub the muslin bag on his upper body. It produced a little lather, but not much. "It's not as good as a fresh water bath, but it's better than none at all!" He handed her the bag, and she slipped her hand through the drawstrings.

Twining her feet into the sides of the ladder to stay in one place, she rubbed soap into her hair as she floated on her back. She thought she might have to use up the whole cake of soap to get her hair clean. When she was finally satisfied with her hair, she scrubbed her face until it felt squeaky.

"Ahh...this is wonderful!" she sighed. She pulled her feet out of the ladder and ducked under the water to rinse. She came up just in time to see Jack's head disappear beneath the waves nearby.

He surfaced a few seconds later, and tied something to the ladder next to her.

"I won't need those tonight… " He grinned wickedly. Lizzie realized that what he had tied up was his pants, and nearly lost her grip on the ladder.

His voice resembled the purring of a tiger. "You know, love, those clothes will have to come off sometime. Might as well get to it…."

After all the dreams and occasional daydreams that she'd had of moments similar to this, Lizzie was surprised that she was nervous now that it was really happening. The quiet clearing of Jack's throat let her know that he was waiting. She turned her back to him, slid out of the shirt, and handed it to him over her shoulder. He tied the sleeves together around the ladder, and pulled himself up close to her, sliding his chest across her bare back. He kissed the side of her neck and down her shoulder, causing one of those wonderful quick shivers. She clutched the ladder with one arm and hand to keep herself from slipping.

"Give me the soap, love". He took it from her and ducked under the water again. When he came up, he swam back to her. "There, I'm as clean as can happen without several hours of scrubbin'. Your turn now!"

Hooking a leg through the ladder to anchor himself, he began gently washing her back. The occasional touch of his fingers on her bare skin took her breath away. He worked his way around to her arms, and carefully washed each one from shoulder to fingers. It was difficult for her not to giggle and pull away from the tickle as he washed under her arms. His fingertips swept gently through the silky hair, and teased her by brushing quickly against the sides of her breasts. "Everything about you is so soft…" he whispered, kissing her ear.

Lizzie held her breath as he reached around and began washing her throat, slowly, very slowly, working his way downward. By the time he reached her breasts, she was sure she would faint from anticipation. His hands touched her with something akin to reverence as he alternately washed and stroked. The sensation of his fingers on her sensitive nipples made her quiver and gasp.

Jack drew his teeth gently across the skin where her neck and shoulder joined. He slid his fingers inside the waistband of her trousers and tugged on them. He whispered, "Do you think you can get these off by yourself, love, or will I have to help by tearing 'em off?" He backed away, giving her a moment to decide, but kept the fingers hooked in the pants.

Lizzie awkwardly removed the trousers. She was glad that it was nighttime, even if it was a full moon, because she could that feel her face was hot from blushing. Jack took the pants and tied the legs around the ladder. "That's better!"

"May I have the soap, please, Jack?" she asked quietly.

"Lizzie—"

"_Please_... "

He reluctantly handed her the soap.

Months of being unable to wash properly had left her feeling so unclean she could barely stand herself. Up to her neck in the ocean, Lizzie set about remedying that. In a few minutes she felt cleaner than she had since leaving Port Royal. But still she clung to the ladder with her back toward Jack. She battled inwardly with her deeply ingrained sense of propriety, trying to convince herself to turn and face her husband fully nude. Rationally she knew it was now both permissible and expected, but she could not make herself move.

The matter was decided for her when Jack slipped the drawstring off her wrist and took the soap out of her grasp. With his leg still twined through the ladder, he gently lifted up her foot and rested her leg across his. He washed it slowly, working his way up her calf, her knee, her thigh... Lizzie found it difficult to remember to breathe. His fingers scarcely brushed the narrow line of very soft, sensitive skin where her thigh and body met. She hissed through her teeth at his touch. In a flash he loosed himself from the ladder, let go of her leg and swung 'round to her other side.

Jack soaped and massaged his way up the other leg until he got back to that extremely soft skin. He pressed himself against her from behind. Lizzie felt something very warm against the small of her back. He pulled away from her momentarily. A second later his body was again touching hers. The warmth was underneath her now, between her legs like a stick horse. A strong shiver made her muscles contract involuntarily. Her thighs gripped him, and she could feel his pulse, strong and hot against her skin. He breathed into her ear. "Can you feel that? That's what you do to me, Lizzie…"

At the same time, he reached around her and began washing her stomach, his hand and the soap gradually circling further and further down her body. His movements were deliberately slow and antagonizing. It took an eternity for his hand to reach its destination. The soap tied around his wrist was a flimsy excuse and was soon forgotten.

Lizzie caught her breath when his fingers first brushed lightly across the soft hair between her thighs. They drifted tantalizingly back and forth several times, dallying and teasing, before gently coming to rest in the center. Her heart beat wildly and she felt light-headed. Her grip on the ladder slipped, and a wave caught her across the face, making her cough. Jack caught her before her head went under the water.

"Lizzie! Are you alright?"

"Jack… stop!"

"_What_? Stop? _Now_?"

"If I stay... here… longer... going to drown..."

"Oh, no! No drowning allowed! Up the ladder with you!"

After taking a few ragged breaths to try to clear her head, Lizzie began to climb. Jack followed, although a transiently augmented element of his physique made climbing the rope ladder somewhat awkward. When he reached the deck, he took a few brief seconds to try to wring some of the ocean out of his dripping hair before leaving the doorway and closing the panel behind him. As they stepped into the circle of candle light, he turned Lizzie to face him. She heard him inhale sharply.

"Gods, Lizzie, you're beautiful!"

She looked at him, all of him, for the first time. No blushing, no embarrassment, just awe. "So are you..."

Later, she couldn't recall exactly how they got all the way across the cabin to the bedchamber or into the bed.


	67. Chapter 67 Four Wedding Nights

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the movie characters. They all belong to Disney. I'm just having fun. Don't sue.

M rating warning: If you are under sixteen years of age, or if you are my mother-in-law, please go away until chapter 69 goes up.  
(Yes, I know, the last chapter said to go away until chapter 68... things have changed. Go ahead, complain. I dare ya.)  
Move along; move along, nothing to see here…

_Ch 67 Four Wedding Nights_

Jack ran his fingers lazily up and down Lizzie's inner thighs. He was ever so careful to avoid touching her where she most desperately wanted him to touch her. Propped up on one elbow, he looked down at her. "As I recall, I've got three missed wedding nights to make up for, so I'd best get started!" His smile was devilish in the light of the single candle in the sconce on the wall.

He leaned over her and kissed her once, very quickly, in an almost paternal manner. When she reached for him to pull him back to her, he slid out of her grasp, still smiling. He rolled over until he was resting on top of her. With one hand, he squeezed one of her breasts. The gesture wasn't the gentle caress of a lover—it was more like that of a grocer testing fruit for ripeness. He reached down and parted her legs with the same hand. He positioned himself at her opening but did not enter her. "Close your eyes and think of England, darling!", he said in the forced accent of a pompous aristocrat.

He pushed against her ever so slightly once, twice, thrice, and then rolled off of her with a huge, exaggerated groan and dropped his head heavily onto her shoulder. He lay still as if he had gone to sleep, and pretended to snore, loud and unrelenting. Her breath escaped in a huge sigh of frustration, and she squirmed against him. He hitched himself back up onto an elbow so he could see her face as he said, "That was the _first_ wedding night you missed."

"What?"

Instead of replying, Jack kissed her again, this time a very light and chaste kiss. Lizzie thought that but for the sensation of his mustache on her lips she might have been kissing a child. Again she reached up to pull him to her, and again he ducked and slipped away from her grasp.

"Oh, my darling, perfect Elizabeth!" His voice sounded much higher and more girlish than normal when he spoke. "You are the epitome of maidenhood, a vision of purity and innocence! Let me worship at the altar of your virtue and honor forever. It would be wrong, a crime, a sin, an abomination for a mere man such as I to defile and despoil you with my touch, to profane your honor with base passion, to deflower you! Never mind that I couldn't if I tried…"

He kissed her chastely once more, gazed at her for a few seconds with an idiotic expression of cow-eyed adoration, and laid his head and upper body heavily across her chest as a sleepy child might lie on its mother. This time he somehow managed to pretend to snore almost daintily.

Lizzie tried to raise herself up to look at Jack, but his dead weight across her upper body kept her flat on her back. "Jack, what was _that_?" A noise that sounded suspiciously like choked-back masculine laughter came from under her chin. He lifted his head and grinned at her impishly. "That was the _second_ wedding night you missed!"

Lizzie suddenly realized what he was doing. "Oooh! You _are_ awful!" She smacked the back of his head lightly in rebuke, but she, too, was trying not to laugh out loud.

"Not awful, just illustrating the fleshly delights, or lack thereof, that you passed up, love! Showing you all the what-ifs, so to speak."

She looked up at Jack, who was once again propped up on his elbow to see her reaction. "So, Captain of the good ship 'What If', what did I miss the third time?" Her smile was mischievous, knowing full well that the third wedding night would have been with him. She was rewarded with that wonderful gleaming golden Jack Sparrow grin. His dark eyes held just as much mischief as her smile. _I swear I could fall into those eyes and get lost in them…_

"Exactly the right question, love! But I can only give you the barest taste of the answer. Otherwise it would spoil all the surprises of the fourth one!" Jack leaned over and kissed her softly. He positioned himself carefully atop her and held her face gently in his hands. He kissed her again, this time with all the passion he had loosed upon her when they first entered the cabin.

Lizzie's senses intensified as she relaxed and allowed herself to fully experience everything he offered her. In the dim light she could see the candle light gleam off his skin as he moved. She put her arms around him and touched his back. Her fingers could perceive each of his scars clearly, and the muscles moving under them were hard and clearly defined. She could hear the rush of the waves against the hull of the ship and the very faint sounds of music coming from the fo'c's'le, and both of their heartbeats. She could taste the tang of seawater on his lips and in his mustache. The scents of coconut soap and the sea clung to his skin.

But over the top of all the rest, that intense, enticing not-quite-smell that emanated from him was more powerful than ever before. It seemed to come from his very pores. When she breathed close to him, when she kissed him, it filled her nostrils and her mouth. The essence of it, so strong and so close, caused her body to respond with a fierce and unfamiliar longing deep in her belly. She needed… Lizzie didn't know exactly what it was that she needed, but the need for it was strong indeed.

His tongue parted her lips and encouraged her to open her teeth. She gave him her tongue in return, and they explored each other for a long while. He left her breathing erratically when he kissed his way down her jaw to her throat. Kisses alternated with gentle nips as he traversed her skin one kiss at a time.

From her throat he kissed his way to her collarbone, and from there to her breast. As he drew near, her nipples tightened in anticipation of the contact. The sensation of his tongue and lips made something deep inside of her clench involuntarily. Her hips thrust upward in response. He played with the nipple, making her insides quiver and dance as she moaned and writhed. He moved to the other one and started her moaning all over again. Then he began to slowly kiss his way down her body, across her flat and tight stomach. When he reached her navel, he paused to breathe hotly into it then blew cool air across it. The sudden change from hot to cold made her shiver with surprise and pleasure. When he kissed his way down to the soft hair below her belly, Lizzie stiffened.

_Is he really going to…?_

Oh, yes. He was.

His tongue gently teased across the wet and sensitive skin. Lizzie gasped sharply at the sensation. Her hips arched up of their own accord. His hands reached around under her legs to grasp her thighs, resting his weight on his elbows as he positioned himself for better access to her treasures.

Lizzie grabbed at his hair, completely lost in the experience. "Oh, God!", she cried out to a deity who almost certainly didn't want to hear from her at that particular moment.

Jack pulled away, raised his head and looked at her up the length of her sweating body. He murmured "It's not Him who's doing this to you, love, it's me. It's my name you should be shouting." He returned to what he had been doing, but he teased and tormented, putting just the tip of his tongue gently inside her and wiggling it until she begged, "Ooooh, Jaaack, pleeeeease!" The physical need for something she didn't fully understand was overwhelming, and she felt that if she didn't get it soon she would go completely and irreversibly mad.

As soon as she said his name, he stopped what he was doing. He shifted himself out from between her knees, wiping his mouth on the coverlet. Lizzie's lower body crumpled to the bed, and she gasped and whimpered audibly. She was sure she was going to die soon.

Jack slid back up on top of her and kissed her deeply. Lizzie noticed in his kisses a new hint of salt that wasn't the sea, and realized that she was tasting herself on his lips. The intangible taste-smell that emanated from Jack mingled with another that she now recognized as her own. _If that does to him what his does to me…_ She couldn't even complete the thought for the shiver and moan that it provoked in her.

He raised his head to look at her. "That's just the most minuscule bit of the third wedding night you missed. Aren't you sorry now that you said 'no, thank you'?"

Her hands entwined into his hair and she pulled him down to kiss him hungrily. He drew back just far enough to mumble "I'll take that as a yes, then," before returning the kiss ferociously. His hips pressed her into the bed as he made absolutely certain that she was aware of his desire for her. She felt more than heard Jack moan in a deep baritone rumble into her mouth as he kissed her again and again and again. He stopped moving and disjoined his mouth from hers. "What do you like best so far?" His voice was soft and low and throaty.

The question shocked her. It would never have occurred to her to discuss what they were doing. She didn't know what to say. After a few seconds of silence Jack took the decision from her. "Can't decide? I think you seemed to like the third rather well…" He arched one eyebrow. "I am right, aren't I?" Without waiting for her answer, he smiled languorously and kissed his way slowly back down her body. Lizzie felt herself melting at the thought of more of… that...

He stopped at her belly and looked up at her. "Are you ready for that fourth wedding night?" She could only nod helplessly. "This one's for real, love." He continued smiling as he kissed his way through the cloud of curly light brown hair back to Lizzie's center of pleasure.

This time he only teased for a brief second before applying his tongue in earnest. And he did not stop, not even when she was so lost in the experience that she yanked sharply on his hair. He gently inserted just the tip of one finger into her. The new feeling was somehow even more exciting, even though she didn't think she could be any more aroused. She squeezed down with muscles she didn't know she had, and arched and moved, some primitive instinct telling her body that was what it should do. The finger held its position despite her body's insistence that it needed to go further. His tongue continued to move rhythmically.

Something inside of her tightened and intensified. Her eyes squeezed shut, and bright bursts of light displayed on the insides of her eyelids. Suddenly her body felt as if it were trying to turn inside out with pleasure—her toes pointed and curled under, her back arched and her hips rose off the bed, thrusting her against Jack's mouth. She cried out, but she had no idea what she was saying. It didn't matter; she couldn't hear her own voice over the rushing sound in her ears. The feeling went on for hours, or at least it seemed that way. Just as she thought it was over and fading away, it would start again, and control of her body would be wrested from her once more as her legs went stiff and her blood turned briefly to boiling lava.

Finally her body went limp and relaxed to the bed. After a few more tentative licks and nibbles, Jack ceased his ministrations and lifted his head from between her thighs. He wiped his chin and raised up until he could see her. He smiled broadly at what he saw. Her eyes were closed, mouth open in a delirious smile, arms lying limp on the bed above her head; Jack was looking at one extremely satisfied and satiated Lizzie.

She felt him move and opened her eyes, seeking his. His eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

"Oh, God—I mean oh, JACK, yes!" His smile got even bigger, if that was possible.

He moved up to the pillow and lay on his side close to her, head cradled on his bent arm. "More than once the first time, and you're a screamer too! We'll be keepin' the crew awake a lot, I think." He looked pleased with these facts. Lizzie was still fuzzy-brained and none of it made any sense at all, so she simply smiled at him because he was smiling at her.

"Are you ready for the rest of _our_ wedding night?"

"There's more?" She couldn't begin to wrap her mind around anything else right at that moment.

"Oh yes, love, _lots_ more…the biggest part, I'd say." he breathed into her ear.

Jack raised himself on his elbow to look down at her. He took her hand and wrapped her fingers around that most private part of him. The skin felt like warm silk and it throbbed with his heartbeat. She looked at where her hand was and a thrill ran through her at the idea of touching him so intimately. Jack moved her hand gently on himself and said "That does to me what this…" he let go of her hand and ran his fingers quickly over her "…does to you. And I'm more than ready for _my_ wedding night too, savvy?" He gasped as she hesitantly moved her hand without his assistance.

"Ooooh! Lizzie, love, you do learn fast!" He kissed her fiercely, then raised his head to look into her eyes.

"I'm told that this first time for you won't be too pleasurable. I'll be as careful as I can, but I'm afraid there's naught to be done about the pain. But I promise you that it will definitely be better after this once..." He kissed her again, and positioned his body atop hers for that first plunge into her uncharted waters. He parted the opening and pushed as slowly and gently as he could manage.

Lizzie could feel the heat of him as he entered. She held her breath and waited for the pain...but it did not come. She would never know, but that tissue thin piece of skin known as her maidenhead had been torn years before while doing some tomboyish activity like jumping out of a tree while playing at being a pirate. All the time she had been protecting her honor, the physical part of her that represented it had been long absent.

As it was, the lack of pain allowed her to feel the experience quite clearly... and she liked the sensation. Jack was still moving inward slowly and carefully when Lizzie dug her fingers into his backside and sheathed him in her all the way to the hilt. It was Jack's turn to gasp in surprise when he suddenly found himself so deeply enfolded in her. He looked at her questioningly. She shrugged slightly and smiled at him. "I'm fine."

"I have to agree… " He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then he spoke into her ear.

"This is the oldest marriage ceremony in the world. This is what people did before there were priests and shamans and churches and gods. It was just one man and one woman, claiming each other forever. This was all the ceremony they needed. Do you claim me as your man?" He raised his head to gaze seriously into her eyes.

She nodded, looking back at him intently. "Yes, I do."

"And I take you as my woman, and lay my claim to you." He kissed her long and hard. "We have an accord."

He watched her face as he began to move. Lizzie observed the motions for a minute then began to move with him, hands still on his buttocks guiding them both. "Oh, Lizzie, you're a wonderful quick study!" Jack groaned. As he moved, the coarse curly hair of his nether region dragged across Lizzie's most sensitive part. Her body instinctively moved to position itself for better contact and was rewarded by pleasant proximity to the muscle and bone behind that hair.

Soon she began to pant and moan as her increasing pleasure caught up with his. His breathing became louder. He moved faster and pushed harder with every stroke. As he plunged deeper, she felt an intense sensation building from inside of her to match the sensations coming from the outside, somehow different but just as wonderfully pleasurable as the times before.

She reached that dizzying peak again, arching her hips upward to drive him even deeper into her. Gripping him tightly with thighs and body, her fingernails dug into his back as she screamed incoherently. Without warning, Jack froze for a second before he wrenched his body away from her, pulling himself free of her grip. His face was twisted into a grimace as he crashed down on top of her, crying her name and grinding his hips against her body.

Lizzie's body crashed down from the peak as her mind raced. What had gone wrong? He had seemed to be enjoying what they were doing only a moment before; what had she done that had caused him to pull away in pain? Was he having some kind of fit?

"Jack?" she whispered, "are you alright?" He was still now, no longer twitching. He said nothing, just laid there breathing raggedly with his face pressed into her shoulder. After a few seconds, he allowed his body to slide off to one side, imprisoning her arm. But he still said nothing. Lizzie glanced down at her body and was horrified to see something shiny and wet on her belly. She felt tears come to her eyes. She did not know what she had done, but she was sure she had hurt him somehow. "Jack, I'm so sorry! What did I do wrong?"

Jack pulled himself out of his pleasure-induced stupor and raised his face to look at her. "Sorry? Wrong? What are you talkin' about?"

She waved the hand he was not lying on in the general direction of her body. "You... I thought...what's...did I hurt you?"

Somehow Jack followed at least part of what she was trying to say, and he began to laugh.

"Silly wench, you didn't hurt me at all! That was...amazing! But did you _want_ to get with child on your wedding night?"

"WITH CHILD?" Lizzie felt all her nerves snap taut at once.

"You, um, do know that's how it's done, don't you?" His voice was tinged with poorly disguised concern that perhaps she had, in fact, _not_ known.

"Of course I know how it's done! It's just that, well, what with all the washing and the wanting and the wedding _nights_, that bit totally slipped my mind!" Her head rocked side to side as her eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed and suddenly frightened.

"It's a good thing that at least one of us remembered it then, i'n't it?" he smiled.

"But what...um...isn't there...do you always...how do...is there a... oh, bugger! No one ever told me how to..."

"We need to find an apothecary. I'm told that there's some herbs to make into a potion or somesuch that women can drink or eat or something. And until we find one, there's a few other things we can do in the meantime that won't require worrying about it." Jack smiled at the thought of the other things. "We'll be investigating those right soon, be sure of that!"

He rolled off of her arm. Feeling around behind his head, he found a scarf under the pillow, which he used to wipe off both her belly and his own. "Seems a waste, this. It's only good for two things—makin' babies and easin' sunburn." He looked at the scarf, and threw it to the floor. "I'd best find another one. This needs a washing. It's seen a lot o' use of late…" He put his arm around her, and gently pulled her head onto his shoulder.

An awful, intrusive thought jumped up and screamed in Lizzie's head. She stiffened as Jack touched her. "What's it, love?" he asked.

She didn't immediately speak. She wasn't sure how to ask what she needed to know. Finally she decided that it was better to just try to get all it out and hope that he could make sense of the words.

"You said…that's the oldest marriage ceremony in the world….I've never…but you have, I know that. You have lots of times, I'm sure. Doesn't that mean…that you're married to….all of _them_ too?" She felt herself sob and bit her lip hard to keep it in.

Jack's response was abrupt and vehement. He sat upright in the bed, pulling her up and holding her by the shoulders with both hands so they were face to face. "NO! It absolutely does NOT mean that!"

"But…if…"

His expression was serious, and his voice intense. "No, Lizzie! Just because two people share a bed for a little while does not make them husband and wife. There has to be an accord, an agreement between them to stay together. Without that, it's just a business deal, or casual pleasure, no more than having a drink together or buying a dress from a shopkeeper. Besides, didn't I marry you in front of the crew? There's witnesses!"

"So you're not…" she didn't know how to continue.

"…married to half the whores in the Caribbean?" He snorted at the thought. "No, love, I'm not. Just to you, only to you." He stroked her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, then leaned toward her to kiss her forehead. "We have an accord, you and me."

He laughed and pulled her with him back down to the bed. "But I'd love to be a fly on the wall in a few places once the word gets around."

She sighed with relief as she curled up against him, and felt herself relax completely as he kissed her hair.

A thoughtful expression crossed Jack's face. "I think I've made up for all the missed wedding nights now, haven't I?"

Lizzie nodded dreamily.

"And this one's not nearly over yet." His smile was roguish. "Now I want to know what it was that Juan offered you the night you decided he needed his throat cut."

Her half-closed eyes flew open. "Oh, please don't mention him, especially not _here_!"

"But I want to know!"

"Jack, just how much of that evening did you 'happen to overhear'?"

"Pretty much everything except what he whispered…"

"How? Where were you?"

"About ten feet away behind a tree. I'm surprised you didn't hear me lickin'my chops when I smelled that food. I considered stealing the leftovers after you went storming off, but there was no time. I had to make sure you got back to the Pearl in one piece, what with the jaguars and all."

"Why did you follow me, anyway?"

"Just wanted to make sure you had the kind of evening you had expected, and that he _didn't _get what he expected, that's all. So, what did he say to you? I want to know so I can make a counter-offer!"

Lizzie thought about it for a moment before whispering in Jack's ear, blushing furiously as she repeated what Juan had said. Jack burst out laughing. "That's all? Oh, love, I can make you a _much_ better offer than that! I just need a little while to re-load m'cannon first. Unlike a certain lucky lady in this bed, I only get one shot at a time!"

He lay back with one arm behind his head. A smug, satisfied smile took possession of his face as Lizzie nestled closer and laid her head on his chest. Her hand reached out to tentatively touch the swan tattoo, and she sighed with contentment.

"I still can't quite believe this is real, that it isn't a fool's paradise…."

"It most certainly is real, love. I'll always remember this as the day you finally caught Captain Jack Sparrow." He snorted softly at his own joke and shook his head in mock disbelief. "And I was stone cold sober too!"

His fingers traced gentle lines and circles up and down her upper arm. "Catch some shut-eye love, it's a full two days and nights sailing to Tortuga, and you're not leaving this cabin until we're anchored!" The first hints of the coming sunrise peeked through the dirty glass of the cabin's rear windows as they fell asleep together.


	68. Chapter 68 Vignettes

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Don't bother suing.

If you're under 16 or my mother-in-law, move along to chapter 69. Yes, I mean it.

* * *

**_Ch 68 Vignettes_**

Lizzie woke some time later, choking back a sob. Before she even opened her eyes, she knew immediately that the Black Pearl was under sail. She could hear the waves against the hull, and felt the ship rocking gently as she cut through the water. But Lizzie wasn't sure where _she_ was aboard the Pearl.

She opened her eyes just the slightest bit. She was lying on her right side facing a black planked wall. Daylight was coming in through cracks around the shutters of a window just beyond her feet. Opening her eyes a little wider, she could tell that she was covered by a velvet coverlet. She threw herself onto her back and searched the room with her eyes. Her gaze immediately fell upon Jack. He was propped up on one elbow next to her in a bed that was narrower than the one she slept in at the mansion. His calloused fingertips toyed absently with the edge of the coverlet and his face bore a worried expression as he watched her. She heaved a huge sigh of relief and clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears that were threatening to flow. His hand trailed along the edge of the covers and the backs of his fingers brushed her shoulder, feather light.

"What's wrong, love?"

"I dreamed that I woke up under the steps, and that last night had all been a dream!"

"No dream. We're here. I woke up thinkin' the same thing; that you wouldn't really be here when I opened my eyes. I kept 'em closed for the longest time. But then you moved in your sleep, and I knew it was real." He sat up and leaned back against the headboard.

Keeping herself modestly covered with the velvet as she moved, she sat up next to him. "Jack? May I ask a question?"

"Sure, love, what's it?"

"Why didn't you say something sooner? Another few hours and I would have been gone. If we hadn't been stopped…"

"Those fool Brazilians did me a good turn by attackin' m'ship. But even after all of that I couldn't speak out… " Jack stopped. She slid closer and leaned against his chest. He put his arm around her shoulder, and rested his chin on her head. "Maybe one day I'll be able to explain what held me back."

"You did say something in time. I suppose that's all that matters. I'll still be here if you ever decide you want to tell me the rest. And even if you don't."

"I'm going to hold you to that, y'know…"

Lizzie smiled. "Just remember that I offered."

She paused for a moment, then asked, "What were you thinking about when we were sitting together like this at the fire?"

"It was a new experience... I was trying it on for the fit."

"So you _do_ remember the evening?"

"Honestly? Only up to the first dance, the pirate song. Even that's fuzzy. After that… "He shook his head. "How bad was I that night, really?"

"You were actually a perfect gentleman, right up until you asked me rather insistently to come back to your cabin with you. You guaranteed that I'd have a very, very good time."

He laughed aloud. "Did I, now? Well, that wasn't lying, was it?" He grinned wickedly and Lizzie felt herself blush. "And your answer was…?"

"Honestly? You _were_ quite convincing, and the galliard certainly helped your cause. I very nearly said yes, and barely talked myself out of it... And then you passed out."

Jack groaned and slapped his forehead. "_That_ close? And I wouldn't have remembered it! Or worse... oh yes, _that_ would have been worse." He feigned wiping sweat from his brow in relief as he had a thought that he did not share with Lizzie.

"This is the only time I've _ever_ been thankful for your devotion to your blasted chastity! I'm damned glad that honor issue is finally out of the way. We definitely have to find someone to play some more of that music for us, far away from that Brazilian rotgut!"

He wrapped both arms around Lizzie. "That reminds me; this wedding night's not over yet, sunup or no! I've still got a counter-offer to make!" He twined his fingers in her hair and lowered his mouth to her smiling lips. The offer was readily accepted.

* * *

When Lizzie awoke again, Jack was not in the bed. Just as she sat up, he backed in through the curtain, still naked, and carrying something in both hands. She hastily pulled the bedclothes up to cover herself. He saw that she was awake, and answered the question he saw on her face.

"Someone just rapped on the door, and I got up to kill 'em, like I warned. When I opened the door, there was no one in sight, but this was on the deck just outside." He put the item in question on the bed. It was a board with several chunks of salt pork, some dried fish, a small stack of hardtack slabs, two mugs of rum, and two desiccated oranges.

"How very thoughtful!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"Other than the rum, that's a whole days rations for both of us! But when did we last have oranges aboard? These look to be older than me! Do you know who might've brought this?" Jack asked. Lizzie nodded but did not offer a name. "They mean well," was all she said. "But beware the oranges. They're trained to kill!"

Lizzie did not think it could be possible to have a romantic meal made up of ships' rations and vintage fruits, but they managed it. Jack fetched his knife from the big table and hacked the oranges into rough cubes—slicing them was impossible. He cut off the hardened peels, and soaked the pieces in the rum. Lizzie sliced some of the meat into bite sized strips. The ships' bread, which someone had thoughtfully de-weeviled before delivery, tasted much better after it had been dunked in rum to soften it a bit. They fed each other bites of the food in between sips of rum.

When the oranges were moist with rum, Jack took a piece from a mug and drew a line down Lizzie's arm with the drips of liquid that trailed from it. Popping the bit of orange into his mouth, he followed the droplets with his tongue. "Mmmmm! I think I've found a new favorite flavor! Orange rum Lizzie!" He fished out another piece of soaked fruit, and pulling the covers out of the way, drew a line of drops down her shoulder to her collarbone. Lizzie's eyebrows rose, and a new kind of smile spread across her face, anticipation of what might happen next. The orange-rum juice dripped down her breast, and Jack's tongue slowly, carefully found every last droplet. He drew a spiral around her nipple with the fruit and traced the line with his mouth.

Lizzie watched and experienced and enjoyed...and considered. Her fingers dipped into the mug and retrieved a piece of the orange. She waited until Jack raised his head, and she gently rubbed the orange on his lips, down the side of his throat and onto his chest. Starting at the bottom, she caught the juice with her mouth as it ran past his flat, almost featureless nipple. The liquid tasted of rum, oranges and salts from Jack's skin, both sea water and sweat.

As she touched the nipple, it shrank up, becoming a tight, hard knot against her tongue. Jack hissed through his teeth at the sensation. She played with her new toy for a moment before following the line of slightly sticky rum up his chest and neck to his lips. She pulled away just long enough to slip the piece of orange into her mouth, then kissed him deeply. He moaned softly when he discovered it between her teeth, and they shared the orange between them. They drew designs on each other with orange pieces, sharing juice and fruit and sensations until the rum mugs were empty. A moment later, Jack leapt out of bed and put the board and its contents on the floor. A moment after that he was back in the bed, showing Lizzie just how much he enjoyed rum and orange juice.

* * *

The next time Lizzie woke up, the sunlight coming in through the cracks around the shutters was quite bright. _It must be past noon._ Jack was still asleep. He'd kicked off the coverlet, and she could see him clearly in the shuttered light. She sat up carefully so as not to disturb him. He looked quite different, and it took Lizzie a moment to realize that the kohl he normally wore around his eyes had been washed off during their swim. His features were sharply defined, but fine-boned. _I wonder where he's from, what blood is in his veins._

Relaxed in sleep, all the facades that he kept up in front of the world fell away. The teasing half smile that constantly played around his lips and eyes was gone. In its place was a poignant, almost melancholy expression. Lizzie wondered what caused such a change in him between waking and sleeping. She shuddered, suddenly wondering if it had been her, and what she'd done... She shook her head. _No, if it had been me, then we would not be here now, and most certainly not married. _

Her inspection of the man who was now her husband moved away from his face. She had never allowed herself to stare at him as openly or for as long as he had stared at her. So there was much for her to take in. She observed for the first time that not all of his hair was braided or deliberately woven into the matted 'ropes' as he called them. Some of it still hung free, in heavy black waves that weren't as curly and tangled as the rest. It looked soft, and her fingers itched to feel it, to play with it.

She looked at the scars that nearly covered his chest and arms. _What a violent life he's led! He's surely lucky to have lived this long._ She shivered at the thought that any of those wounds could have prevented her from ever meeting him. And the sudden realization that at any time another such wound could take him from her made her eyes sting with tears of fear. She bit her lip and rebuked herself. _No, Lizzie, don't borrow trouble from tomorrow._

She forced herself to look at the body beneath those scars. He was lean and muscular, and sun-bronzed everywhere except around the edges of the strange lace and leather tied around his wrists, and on his forehead where the scarf normally secured his hair. Even relaxed in sleep, his body appeared to be carved from warm brown Sicilian marble, with black tattoos and white scars rather than feathery veins of gray. The hair on his chest was negligible, but further down his stomach it grew more abundantly. It formed a tussocky mass of wiry black hair below his navel before becoming diffuse again on his legs.

The thicket of hair framed the part of him which Jack had fondly referred to as 'his cannon'. This was the first Lizzie had seen it clearly rather than in dim candlelight and heavy shadows. It didn't look as to be large as she had thought it did when she had first glimpsed it after their swim. Nor did it appear to be as firm as it had felt between her thighs in the water, beneath her hand or inside of her. It seemed to have shrunk in upon itself, and the brownish skin of it resembled nothing so much as the neck of a small drawstring pouch. The changes puzzled Lizzie, but she quickly stifled her curiosity. I_t was embarrassing enough that I thought I had hurt him... I'm not asking him about that!_

She made her eyes move beyond the current object of their interest on to his legs. They, too, were muscular and well-built like the rest of him. Lizzie was most surprised by Jack's feet. While naturally larger than hers to support his greater height, they looked delicate, almost feminine, with graceful high arches and long, slender toes. _A dancer's feet…_

He shifted slightly in his sleep. She allowed her gaze to trail slowly back up to his face. One dark, sleepy eye had opened, and the eyebrow above it was raised in question. An indistinct smile eased the faint sadness around his mouth.

Lizzie grabbed for the velvet to cover herself. Jack's hand moved to intercept hers. He murmured drowsily, "Seems you've been doin' some surveyin' while I wasn't aware. As I see it, 's only fair to leave that blanket where it is. Besides, I think we're long past the point of maintaining our modesty, don't you?" He smiled lazily. "So, did you see anything you liked?"

Lizzie felt her face get warm. She smiled despite her embarrassment. "Well, yes, actually. You have very pretty feet." Jack's mouth opened in surprise, but for a few seconds nothing came out. Then the laughter began. In between whoops and howls, Jack wheezed, "Now _that_ is something I've never been told before! Not at all what I was expecting... Pretty feet! I hope the crew never hears about _that_! I'd best never take m'boots off on deck again!" The laughter started all over again.

His hilarity was contagious, and soon Lizzie was giggling with him. Jack finally had to hide his lovely feet under the covers so he and Lizzie could stop laughing. They curled up together, happy and content with each other's company. As they fell asleep, his arms were wrapped around her and her head rested on his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat under her ear.

* * *

Lizzie awoke not long afterward, acutely aware of pressure in her bladder. She looked around the room and saw a heavy, covered earthenware chamber pot in the corner between the armoire and the port wall. No curtain, no screen, no door, just the pot. Propriety kept her in the bed, but her bladder continued to scream at her. She couldn't get out of the bed past Jack, and her side of the bed was up against the wall. Finally she eased herself toward the foot of the bed, and climbed awkwardly over the footboard. As she stepped to the floor, Jack woke up. "Goin' somewhere?"

Lizzie swallowed hard. "Jack... would you mind stepping out for a moment so I can...um..." She pointed toward the pot.

"Why? Do you do that any different than anybody else does? If you do, I want to watch!" He grinned.

Lizzie's eyes narrowed, but her face reddened. Jack sighed. "There's precious little privacy aboard a ship, and there's going to be a lot less than that in here! I'm not about to get out of a comfortable bed just because you need to use the pot, love, and I wouldn't expect you to get up if I did. Now, if the air's goin' to need clearin' after, that may be a different story..." He grinned again. Lizzie crossed her arms and continued to stare at him quietly. Finally he rolled onto his side facing away from her. "This is the best you'll get, love. I'm comfy. Get on with it, or get back in this bed!"

Lizzie sighed, seated herself facing into the corner and went about her business, blushing furiously the whole time. When she got up, she turned to find Jack lying on his back, arms behind his head, watching her surreptitiously through half closed eyelids.

"One more sliver of modesty chipped away. You know, you _could_ have taken the pot out into the cabin if it really bothered you." He smiled innocently as he added the last comment.

_Why didn't I think of that? _ "Ooooh! For that I should dump it on you... ", Lizzie grumbled as she climbed back over the footboard into the bed.

"No, you shouldn't, because then you'd have to sleep in it too..."

She turned her back on him and faced the wall. He got up, opened the port window shutters and positioned himself so he could relieve himself out the window. Lizzie tried not to watch, but found she was unable to keep from peeking. He didn't do anything differently than she'd seen the other crewmen do. She was very glad for that. When he finished, he emptied the chamber pot out the window and set it back in the corner. Then he climbed back into the bed, hitched himself up close behind her, kissed her shoulder and put an arm possessively around her waist. They dozed off again, spooned tightly.

* * *

The next time Lizzie awoke the light coming in around the shutters was aglow with the bright colors of early sunset. Jack was lying as far from her as he could be in the small bed. His back was turned to her, and his legs dangled in the air over the side of the bed. She slid nearer to him and gently touched his neck with her fingertips. Jack roared incoherently and his hand shot up to seize hers painfully. His other hand flailed wildly toward the sea chest next to the side of the bed, but came away empty. He rolled toward her, still gripping her hand roughly. Only then did his eyes open.

A look of horror crossed his features. "Bloody Hell, Lizzie! Did I hurt you? Are you alright? I'm… I'm sorry!" He released her hand and sat up, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

Lizzie rubbed her sore hand with her other one, blinking back tears of pain. "Jack? What...?" She didn't know what to say.

Jack took her bruised hand and gently massaged it with both of his own. He focused on the bed as he spoke to her in hushed tones. "I didn't expect that, but I guess I should've… I've always slept alone. I'm not used to bein' touched in m'sleep. Anybody that's ever disturbed my sleep was most likely out to kill me." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it several times before clutching it to his heart, still looking at the mattress. He murmured mostly to himself, "I'm glad m'knife wasn't on the chest where I normally keep it..."

The sudden reminder that she really had married a pirate with dangerous instincts made her gulp and swallow hard. "Perhaps I should sleep somewhere else, Jack?"

Jack shook his head. "No... Maybe if we got a bigger bed..."

Lizzie looked at the room, which was barely big enough for the bed that currently occupied it. "It won't fit. You were nearly off the edge of the bed just now. I startled you when I touched you. Maybe if we just change places, you won't be able to get that far away from me and you'll remember that I'm here."

"But I won't be able to reach the knife..."

"Jack, maybe that's not such a bad thing for a little while..."

"Oh. Right..."

He climbed over her, putting himself between her and the wall. He pulled her to him and held her close against his chest. She tried to raise her head up to kiss him, but he wouldn't let her look at his face. Eventually they lay down and dozed off again, with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

* * *

They both awoke again as the sun went down. Jack got up first and opened the shutters on the port window. Lizzie joined him. The sky was clear and the sea was comfortably calm with a favorable wind. They couldn't see the sunset off to starboard, but the high clouds visible to the northeast of the ship were gorgeous shades of purples, golds and oranges that reflected onto the sea and in through the window, illuminating the dim cabin with stained glass light. Lizzie sighed happily. "Just beautiful..." She felt Jack's arm go around her waist as he replied, "Aye." It took her a moment to realize he wasn't looking out the window.

They watched until the colors faded from the clouds. Jack asked "Are you hungry?" Before she could answer, he pulled the board with the rest of the food from earlier out from under the bed and plopped it back onto the mattress.

"There's no rum left," Lizzie commented. Jack laughed and opened the armoire. There were several bottles of rum neatly lined up in the bottom of the largest cupboard. "Silly woman, there's always rum _somewhere_! The mugs may be empty, but the rum is not gone! Not yet, anyway!" He smiled and took out a bottle. "Dinner is prepared! But it's a shame that we used up all the oranges!"

They fed each other another meal of ships' rations in the small bed in the captain's cabin. Afterward they lay together simply glad to be on the same side of the wall that had separated them for so long. They fell asleep tangled together, a gentle whorl of arms and legs and hair and red velvet.

* * *

Something trailed across the top of Lizzie's foot. She opened her eyes, and found herself facing Jack's knees in the early light of dawn. The beads dangling from his beard were what she had felt, as he gently kissed her ankle. She raised her head to see what he was doing. He smiled at her and continued kissing further up her leg. Lizzie glanced at his body, and her earlier unasked questions were answered as she watched his 'cannon' begin to distend out of the loose covering of skin. Lizzie couldn't keep the surprise from her face. Jack laughed softly. "Curious, were you?" She blushed, but acknowledged that she was.

"Oh, good! I do like it when you're curious! Do you recall me mentioning some things we could do that wouldn't cause us any worry about whelps?" He smiled naughtily when she nodded, and leaned across her legs to feel around on the floor. He came up holding the scarf with which he had wiped them off previously. When the scarf was once again on the bed, he wrapped his hand around himself, moving the skin up and down his length, briefly exposing and then covering something at the end with each motion.

She felt her insides clench and shiver as she observed him. Jack said quietly, "Look at me, love." His hand was gliding up and down, and he began breathing harder. "I've been doin' this and thinking of you nearly every night ever since those bloody leeches." He smiled at the memory. "No, since before that. Knowing you were sleeping just the other side of this wall..."

He reached for her with his free hand, and placed her fingers between her own legs, keeping his fingers atop hers. "Have you ever done this while you thought about me?"

As Jack made her touch herself, another of Lizzie's deliberately long-buried memories was set free. It was the one memory that more than any other, had made the proper Miss Elizabeth Swann burn with shame. Lizzie was suddenly reminded of the times that she had wickedly pleasured herself.

She had returned from her first adventure with the pirates, specifically from the night she had spent on the island alone with Jack, plagued with extremely strong and unladylike urges and desires. In the dark of her bedchamber, with her keen-eared lady's maid asleep in the very next room, her physical need had won out over her sense of propriety more than a few times.

Alone in her room, she had clenched her pillow between her teeth to keep from crying out as the feelings she induced with her fingers had wracked her body. Afterward she always felt terrible guilt because it was wrong, and sordid, and dishonorable, even more proof of how unworthy she was to be called a lady. She would struggle to forget that it had happened… until the next time.

It had been a very long time since Lizzie had acknowledged either the actions or the memories. Since she had gone to sea again, never once aboard any ship had she dared to do such a thing, for fear of being heard and discovered. She'd had many, many arousing and frustrating dreams which simply brought more guilt, and all too rarely, physical completion and brief respite. The rush of recollections of those nights in her room made her gasp for breath. Jack took the gasp as an affirmative answer. "Show me, love..." He moved her fingers with his own.

The excitation that their combined touch produced in her forced any residual embarrassment out of her mind. Her body quickly took control. She started to move her hand without his aid as the thrill began to intensify. Jack's fingers slipped off of hers and disappeared, but she no longer noticed. Her breath became irregular, her eyes closed, and her head tipped back.

"Lizzie, look at me, watch me..." Jack groaned. She opened her eyes. He was on his back, one hand sliding on himself, the other hand gripping the scarf and the coverlet with white knuckles. His hips bucked upward rhythmically as he panted her name over and over. Without stopping what she was doing to herself, she ran the fingers of her free hand up the inside of his thigh, and gently trailed them through the thick, coarse black hair, across the soft treasures that hung partly hidden beneath it.

Touching freely that which had frightened her so when she removed the last leech from Jack's leg, intensified her own feelings. She moved her fingers up and caressed the soft skin beneath his hand. Jack twitched and moaned her name and something wet shot all over his belly. Watching him sent Lizzie screaming over the edge of her own pleasure. A nebulous thought floated through her mind that it was much nicer to not have a pillow in her mouth.

She vaguely noticed Jack open his eyes to watch her. His smile was fuzzy and pleased. When he was able to speak again, he murmured, "So you did think of me? Ah, leeches... Never thought I'd ever think of leeches as, er, stimulating… " He reached for the scarf. "Oh yes, this _has_ seen a lot of use of late... "

"It wasn't leeches first for me, Jack. It was being alone all night on an island with a devilishly handsome pirate."

Jack grinned at her words, obviously flattered. "I could understand how being alone all night on an island with the beautiful, partly undressed, drunken, virginal daughter of a Governor could incite feelings of that sort. But a pirate, especially one that's scarred and defaced, and older than Methuselah? If that got you roused up, you _are_ a sick and twisted lass, positively depraved!" Jack laughed softly.

Lizzie rolled onto her side and rested her head on Jack's knee, looking up the length of his body as she spoke. "You have no idea how long I thought that was true… I was sure there was something wrong with me." She sighed.

"When did you finally come to your senses, love?"

"How long ago was that bonfire?"

"No! You really thought that?"

Lizzie nodded. "I was taught by the nannies and maids that father hired to care for me that proper ladies... are not supposed to have... longings, or to enjoy 'the act'. The proper lady wife shuts her mouth and pleases her husband as he wishes, and expects nothing for herself, especially in the bedroom."

Jack sat up and swapped ends so his head was next to hers. He looked at her seriously. "You don't still believe that... do you?"

Lizzie waited a moment before laughing aloud. "I think the correct response is 'Oh, hell, no'!"

Jack's sigh of relief nearly blew Lizzie right out of the bed.

* * *

A/N:

Today's (adult) history lesson:

My research on the topic repeatedly informed me that circumcision was not commonly practiced among Christians until the mid to late 1700's. So, given that Jack was born in the early 1700's and was probably neither Jewish nor Muslim by birth, he most likely wasn't circumcised unless he had some sort of accident. Historical fact, deal with it.

If you're over 16, go search on www (dot) wikipedia (dot) com for 'foreskin'. It's really quite intriguing, IMO.  
If you're not over 16, why did you read this chapter? (wink)


	69. Chapter 69 Letters and Ivy

Author's Note:

Those of you who are under 16, or my mother-in-law, may now resume reading. I'm done with the smut—_for now_.

* * *

**_Ch 69 Letters and Ivy_**

They spent the second day of their marriage very much like the first, alternately napping and most decidedly not napping.

When they awoke again after their early morning activities, Jack slipped on some pants he took from the armoire and ducked out to go use the head. When he returned, he was carrying their breakfast. As soon as he had placed the food on the chest next to the bed, he left again. He returned immediately with Lizzie's belongings from under the steps. Her monthly rags had been stuffed into her boots, and her hat sat atop her folded jacket. "These were next to the door. There's a note with your name on it in the hat."

Lizzie unfolded the scrap of paper and read it. The handwriting was surprisingly neat, considering the author of the note.

"_Missus Sparrow-- the gold from your jacket is locked up safe in the brig. – Gibbs"_

Jack feigned a look of disappointment as he commented, "The curtains are gone and the cubby's full of cannonballs and rope, so I guess you're stuck sleeping in here now."

Lizzie pretended to be saddened by the news. "Oh, and I was so looking forward to sleeping with the cannon again!"

Jack reached for her. "I'll show you a cannon, wench!" and another non-nap was begun.

And so went the entire day.

* * *

When sunset once again turned the bedchamber walls to gold and purple, Jack put on his pants and stepped out to speak to Gibbs. When he returned, he was carrying more food. He took the plate to the large table and called to Lizzie. "I've brought supper! Not that I ever want you to get out of that bed, but I don't want any more hardtack crumbs in it with us!" He rubbed his hands down his bare arms and across his shoulders as if brushing off crumbs to emphasize his words. "And Gibbs says that we'll be arriving in Tortuga by mid-morning tomorrow."

Lizzie poked her head out of the bedchamber door, looked around and retreated back into the room.

"You wouldn't happen to have a dressing gown in here, would you?"

Jack laughed. "Sorry, I'm fresh out! Having another attack of belated maidenly modesty?"

"Not exactly. In case you hadn't noticed, there's a pane missing from the glass in the cabin door. If I can see the crew on the deck..."

"Oh, not good! Must get that fixed…" She could hear him rummaging through a cabinet. He came into the bedchamber and handed her a folded pile of royal blue silk.

"What's this?"

"It followed me back to the ship when last I was in Japan. It doesn't fit me, but I liked it, so I let it stay. Always thought there might be a use for it someday!"

Lizzie unfolded the silk. It was a simple kimono. She put it on and marveled at the feel of the soft fabric against her skin, although her roughened fingers snagged on it. She followed Jack out to the table and sat down to eat. As she nibbled on dried fish, her thoughts kept straying back to one topic. _We're so close to Port Royal—is Father still there?_

Jack noticed the absent expression on her face. "A doubloon for your thoughts, love!"

"A whole doubloon?" Lizzie smiled.

"I'm feelin' a mite expansive at the moment. It won't last though, best spill while I'm still willin' to pay out!" Jack laughed. "Another minute and that same thought won't be worth a brass farthing!"

'Alright then… I was wondering...when we get to Tortuga...if there's a church there... well, could we have a church ceremony?"

"What exactly do you mean by 'a church ceremony'?"

"A wedding, in a church."

"Why? We've had two wedding ceremonies already, although I much preferred the second. Do you really think we need a _third_? Or is this one for the gown and flowers?"

"It's not… Jack... it's just that... if my father is still alive, he's never going to believe that we're married unless we have a marriage certificate signed by the clergy. It's important to me that I can prove to him that this is for real, if I ever see him again. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, I just want the certificate."

"The only religion on Tortuga is Spanish Catholic. No Church of England there, love. Is this really_ that _important to you?"

"I don't care what church it is, as long as it's Christian. This isn't just for me and certainly not for any sentimental reason. We may need that paper to protect you, especially if he's still governor. If Father thinks our marriage is a sham, I don't know what he might try to do to you. I want to be able to show him that we are legally wed."

Jack's eyes widened in sudden surprise. "Oh, bugger. I hadn't considered that he might still be governor! In that case… looks like we've got another wedding to muddle through."

"Maybe we can just get the certificate without all the ceremony?"

"Ah, you don't know the Catholic church. Everything they do involves a ceremony!

"If there's another way, I'm open to suggestions. But I think we're going to need that marriage certificate. And Jack?"

"What, love?

"Is there some way I might send a post to my father and arrange to receive a reply without getting us into trouble? If he survived everything that happened, I want him to know I'm alive. It's been months since he's heard from me. Even if you and I may both be wanted for piracy, he's still my father, and my only kin. I'm sure he's as worried about me as I am about him."

"Aye, you can write to him. Tell him to send return post to the "Rose and Ivy Inn" on Tortuga, and you'll get it eventually. The owner can keep a secret and won't let on where we are no matter who comes lookin'. You can post it from the dock on Tortuga."

He went across the cabin and dug through a drawer of the desk. He returned with a sheet of paper, a quill and an ink bottle. He also had a stub of green sealing wax. "You'll have to use your thumb to seal it. I've got no seal ring."

Jack sat close beside her and watched as Lizzie sharpened the quill and began to write in a very neat and educated feminine hand.

"_25 August, 1746_

_Dearest Father;_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I must keep this brief. I am alive and well and quite happy. The adventures I have had since last I saw you would take volumes to record. _

_P.A.B.A.S.D., Father, before you read any further._

_I am wed, as of only early yesterday. I wish you had been present at the marriage ceremony, Father. It was--"_

She wrote the word 'lovely', looked at it for a moment and crossed it out. Then she tried 'moving', and crossed that out too. 'Interesting' also didn't pass muster after seeing it on paper. She finally settled on 'unique', and continued writing.

"_--__ unique. My husband is a man you have met before, albeit briefly, Captain Jack Sparrow. I do hope to find a way to see you again Father, but I fear that visiting Port Royal as the wife of a pirate captain might be unwise. Please take care of yourself in my absence. You may write to me care of the innkeeper at the Rose and Ivy Inn on Isla Tortuga. I do not know how often I might collect letters there, but I will watch for your reply as best I am able._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Elizabeth--" _She wrote Swann, hissed under her breath and crossed it out_. "--Sparrow"_

She folded the paper in thirds, melted the green wax in the flame of a candle on the table, and dripped it where the paper overlapped. Before it could cool completely, she pressed the pad of her thumb into the wax to seal it, and scratched the initials "ES" into the center of the blob with the quill. Then she turned it over and addressed the paper: Weatherby Swann, Port Royal, Jamaica.

Underneath the address, she wrote in larger print P.A.B.A.S.D. and underlined it twice.

"What's that mean?" Jack asked, pointing at the unusual word on the letter.

"It means 'Pour A Brandy And Sit Down'. When I was younger, I was forever doing unladylike things and causing Father to become upset with me when he learned about them later."

Jack interrupted her with a laugh. "Those are stories I truly want to hear! What sorts of things did you do?"

Lizzie did not laugh, nor did she offer any examples. "There's lots of time for those later. As I grew older, I found that it went easier for me if I told him myself, rather than letting him hear of my doings from the servants or worse, from the neighbors. I began cautioning him to pour a brandy and sit down before I would tell him what I had been up to. It was soon shortened to 'pabasd'."

She pronounced it as a slurred 'papa sit'.

"It's my warning that he should prepare himself for the news to follow. The last time he heard it from me was... oh…." She stopped and stared at the table, suddenly lost in her thoughts.

"What, Lizzie?"

"...it was when I told him I didn't want to marry James, I wanted to marry Will."

Jack tipped her chin up with one hand to make her look at him. "Regrets?"

"Oh no, Jack! No regrets at all! It just seems so very long ago, as if it happened in someone in else's lifetime. I'm so worried about my father, Jack. He's all the family I have. I'm so afraid that when we get to Tortuga, I'll find that he's dead!" Lizzie slid across the small gap between their chairs to sit on his lap and put head on his shoulder, not crying, just afraid. He put his arms around her, and she clung to him, drawing strength from simple contact. When she finally sat upright, Jack uncorked a rum bottle and handed it to her without a word.

After they'd finished the rum between them, he carried her back to the bed. He used every skill in his sizeable arsenal to focus all her senses on him to the exclusion of everything else. They eventually fell asleep tangled in red velvet, blue silk and each other.

* * *

Jack and Lizzie awoke the next morning when the Pearl dropped anchor in one of Tortuga's many small protective bays, some distance from the main harbor. It was only when they went to dress that they realized they had not pulled up the ladder or brought in their wet clothing the night they were wed. His clothing and her pants were still soaking wet, and her shirt had come untied and was gone. He pulled up the ladder and she wrung out the clothes and laid them across the backs of the chairs. But it would be days before the garments were dry enough to wear, and there was still the matter of Lizzie's missing shirt.

Jack dug through the drawers and armoire built into the cabin wall seeking clothing for her. He came up with a pair of threadbare black trousers and a ragged and ancient shirt, both of which were too large for her. She dressed in the too-big garments, and Jack tossed her a worn brocade vest to put on over the shirt. It came nearly to her knees. As she went to buckle the sword belt, Jack said, "Put that on under the vest for now, love." She did so, but wondered why. When he dressed, he did the same with his Damascus sword.

Lizzie couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "Jack, when are you going to tell me about these swords?"

Jack looked down for a moment before facing her. "It'd be best to explain that a bit later, love, when I've got some help to tell the story properly."

"But you will tell me?"

"Yes, I will. Just not right now." He kissed her gently. "Now get ready, we need to be on our way!" He tied a scarf around his braids, and got out the small box with the kohl and the scrap of mirror. He carefully applied even black smudges under both eyes with the tip of a finger. The finishing touch was his leather hat, positioned just so. He held out his hands to the sides in a 'look at me!' pose and smiled at Lizzie. Captain Jack Sparrow was once again in command.

As she put on her hat, Jack said "Tuck your hair up under it. It might be better to not let on that you're a woman until you get your land legs again." When she twisted her hair above her head and set the hat over it, Jack chuckled. "Even better than I'd hoped! With the shorn hair in back, you look like a short-haired boy wearing hand-me-downs!"

Lizzie squinted at him. "Jack, do you _want_ your wife to look like a boy?"

Jack smiled. "It's only temporary, love! I just want to surprise someone, 's'all."

"Alright…" Lizzie replied uncertainly. She started to ask who he was surprising, but decided she probably wouldn't get that answer either. She tucked the paua shell handled knife in her belt, put the letter in a vest pocket, and they stepped from the dimly lit cabin into the bright morning sun.

When they came out onto the deck together, the crew cheered and clapped. A voice from the back of the crowd made a comment about Lizzie being bow-legged. She looked about for a few seconds, unsuccessfully seeking the source of the words. She took a few tentative steps, looking at her feet, then she smiled sweetly and replied, "Perhaps that may be true, but if so, at least _my_ bowed legs didn't come about from scurvy!" She heard a muffled snort from behind her. Jack burst out laughing, and the crew joined in with him. "Ah, love, you're going to do just fine!"

* * *

While the longboats were being prepared to take the crew to shore, Jack asked Gibbs to bring him some of the jewelry from the chests. "Might as well start the appraisals!" Lizzie took the opportunity to ask Gibbs to release her imprisoned gold from the brig. When the treasure was in their hands, they returned briefly to the cabin. Dumping her bag out on the bed, Lizzie removed the ruby jewelry and a few doubloons from the bag and put them in a pocket of the vest. She looked around, trying to find someplace to put the rest of her bag of gold.

Jack said "Here, love!" and opened the armoire in the bedchamber. After removing the bottles of rum in the bottom, he lifted out the floor of the armoire, revealing a good-sized hiding space. "That's where this has lived since I got the Pearl back…" he patted the hilt of his Damascus sword. Lizzie placed her bag of gold in the armoire, noticing as she did that there was another sack already there. Jack replaced the bottom piece, and then the rum. He dropped an old shirt off a hook over the bottles, and they went back out to where the crew was waiting. They proceeded to a longboat, accompanied by more good-natured teasing from the crew.

A full third of the crew was left behind on watch and ordered to remain armed at all times. Jack didn't want to risk any problems with the ship, given that it would soon be obvious to most of the town that the Pearl's crew had new wealth. Arrangements were made to rotate watch duty every four days. Soon they were pulling up to the noisy, crowded docks of Tortuga. There were men of every size and color loading and unloading boats all along the docks. For an island with a very shady reputation, a lot of trade took place there.

Jack scouted out one of the colorfully painted small boats that carried letters and packages between the islands. He hurried Lizzie over to that dock, and gave the boat's captain part of a piece of eight to deliver the letter. The wizened old man smiled a toothless grin, glanced at the envelope and put the letter in a box labeled "P.R." on the deck of his boat. He looked at the sky. His musical voice pronounced, "Two day to git der, mebbe soonah wit' faiuh winds!" Lizzie smiled at the thought that in perhaps only two days the letter would reach her father. She crossed her fingers and glanced up at the sky. _Please let him be there to receive it…_

Jack stepped in front of Lizzie and led her through the crowded docks toward the town. As they left the docks, Jack leaned over the shoulder of a man who might have been some sort of harbor master, and spoke into his ear. The man looked surprised at whatever Jack said, but his reply was too fast and quiet for Lizzie to hear his response. She saw Jack's expression go through a series of quick changes from happiness to relief to fear and then back to normal. Without a word, Jack ushered her off the docks toward the town.

* * *

They reached the road leading to the port town of Tortuga, they literally bumped into Phillip, who was walking slowly with his sea chest slung over one shoulder. "Ah, Mister Wightman, just the man I was seeking!" said Jack, clapping Phillip on the back. "Care to walk with us? I think we may have the same destination!" Phillip smiled and fell into step with them.

Instead of taking the short road leading uphill into town, Jack turned west and followed a cart track that ran parallel to the shore. It led away from the town and around the edge of the island, through groves of palm trees and past rocky beaches. Once they were out of sight of the town, Jack put his arm around Lizzie's waist. The three walked in companionable silence for over two miles before coming to a fork in the path.

The left fork of the road continued around the island at water level, separated from the rough, craggy shoreline by a line of scrub palms and bushes. The right path became steps cut into a steep stone hill. Partway up, it disappeared around a bend behind some trees. Next to the bottom of the steps stood a simple wooden bench. Phillip plopped down heavily upon it, and dropped his sea chest onto the seat next to him.

"I'm winded, Cap'n! I'll just wait here and rest a bit. If ye'd be so kind as to fetch me when your own business is concluded?" His wink at Jack did not go unnoticed by Lizzie. She squinted suspiciously at Jack, but he ignored her look. "Aye, I'll do that, Mister Wightman!" He gestured that Lizzie should follow him, and headed up the steps and out of sight of Phillip and the sea.

* * *

When they reached the top of the steps Lizzie was met with an unexpected sight. There in the shade of a grove of mixed trees was an ivy covered two-story English cottage, complete with rose arbors and riotously colorful flower garden. The only difference between this and any cottage to be found in England was that the roof was made up of thin sheets of locally quarried stone instead of traditional thatch.

The gardens were laid out inside a circular path covered in loose gravel and small sea shells. Interior paths divided the circle into quarters across the main compass points, and four tall rose arbors held court in the center. On each side of the cottage door a window faced the garden, and there were benches placed on each side of the doorway, inviting visitors to sit and admire the gardener's handiwork. The neatly kept beds overflowed with flowers spanning every color of the rainbow, each plant clamoring for the full attention of the viewer.

Upon closer examination Lizzie recognized that the garden was made up almost entirely of exotic plants and flowers that were native to the island, and the 'ivy' was a type of jungle vine. Carefully scattered among the tropical flowers were traditional herbs for seasoning and medicine, neatly trimmed and groomed.

Central to the garden were the arbors which arched over each path. They supported several large climbing English rose bushes, all covered with blooms. Each bush was dripping with a profusion of flowers of a different color—yellow, pink, peach, deep velvety red, white. The perfumes of the roses overpowered all the other floral fragrances of the garden.

The house, garden and roses were so like the cottages that Lizzie had grown up seeing daily as a child that she immediately became homesick for England for the first time since she was twelve years old. Jack read her face. "Aye, it has that affect on many a sailor. Come on, if you like the outside, wait until you see the inside!" He pushed open the heavy wooden front door and stepped through it. As she followed him in, she noticed the colorful sign on the door depicting a red rose and a single green ivy leaf, ringed with words in an elegant script; 'The Rose and Ivy Inn'.


	70. Chapter 70 Kith and Kin

_Ch 70 Kith and Kin_

Inside, it looked exactly like a typical British pub; low ceiling, heavy wood beams, a polished wood floor and an even more highly polished wood bar. Behind the bar was a large mirror which reflected the entry door and the entire room. A curtained door on the wall to the right led to another part of the building. The room was furnished with straight-backed benches around the walls. Several round or oval tables of varying sizes flanked with simple wooden chairs occupied the open space of the floor.

The pub was empty but for a woman standing behind the bar with her back to the door, intent on wiping a pottery mug with a rag. She did not look up as the bell on the door jingled to announce their entrance. "If you've come for the dinner meal, it's not ready yet. Won't be served until nigh unto noon!"

Jack spoke quietly. "It's alright, love, we're not here for dinner." The woman's head raised up and she stared into the mirror at the man who had just spoken behind her. The mug fell from her hand and shattered on the polished wood floor. She dropped the rag, spun around and gaped at Jack as if she was seeing a ghost.

A second later she screamed piercingly and vaulted easily over the bar in her haste to get around it. She sprinted across the room and threw herself upon him, hugging him around the neck and crying his name. "Jack! Jack! I'd heard you were dead! Praise be, you're alive! Oh thank God, Jack, I thought I'd never see you again!" She kissed his cheeks, drew back, cupped his face in both hands and kissed him full on the mouth. His eyes grew wide in surprise and his hands waved ineffectively in the air around her shoulders. He pulled away from the kiss and tried to disengage from her as gently as he could manage. But the sobbing woman clung to him like a barnacle, repeating his name over and over like a prayer. Lizzie was too stunned to move or say a word. Jack looked at Lizzie, panic in his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak. "Ah…"

Two young girls ran into the room through a door behind the bar. "Mama, we heard you scream…" They skidded to a stop. Lizzie could see tears form in the older girl's eyes as her mouth dropped open in shock. The younger one jumped up and down to see over the bar. A second later the girls dashed around the end of the bar squealing incoherently. They launched themselves onto Jack, who was knocked out of the woman's arms and onto his back on the floor by the dual attack. Both of the girls had flawless, tawny tanned skin, coffee-colored eyes, and long, black, wildly curly hair—just like the man they were greeting like a long-lost...father?

While the girls were trying hard to bury Jack in girlish hugs and kisses, the woman glanced up and noticed Lizzie for the first time. She ran her hands through her disheveled hair to try to smooth it. "I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't see that you had your-- cabin boy?--with you!" She approached Lizzie, wiped her hand on her apron and stuck it out in greeting. "I beg your pardon, good sir. I'm Missus Sparrow, proprietress of this establishment."

-

* * *

. 

Lizzie still could not make herself move or speak. All she could do was sputter inarticulate noises and look from the woman to Jack and the girls. The woman turned to Jack and his small captors. "Sam, Bobby, let him up off the floor! Jack, who's your shipmate? Can't he speak?"

Lizzie realized much later that she hadn't thought it would be possible to make Jack blush. The girls stood up, but continued to pluck at Jack's hands and arms while squealing in excitement. As he dragged himself to his feet next to Lizzie, he muttered, "Take off the hat!"

Lizzie managed to mumble "Oh..." and removed her hat, allowing her sun-streaked light brown hair to fall around her shoulders. Jack pulled her to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. Smiling at "Missus Sparrow" he said "Allie, I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Lizzie!"

"WIFE?" Allie shouted. Her face paled and her legs went out from under her, dumping her on her backside on the tavern floor. It was a good thing she was wearing trousers.

-

* * *

. 

The sight of the other woman falling in a near faint brought Lizzie out of her own stupor.

"Jack, who IS this woman?" She gestured at Allie, who was using one of the pub benches to pull herself back to a standing position. "And who are THEY?" She pointed at the girls. "Just where have you brought me, and what have you gotten me into?" Lizzie's hand crept to the hilt of the paua handled knife.

Jack made placating gestures with his hands, backing a step away as he did so. "No, Lizzie, it's alright, really! Nothin' to be worried about, darlin'!" His voice trailed off as the knife came out of Lizzie's belt. The two girls looked at each other, and threw themselves between Lizzie and Jack, crying "Don't hurt Uncle Jack!"

At the same instant, Allie grabbed Lizzie around the shoulders from behind and easily disarmed her. She spun out of Lizzie's reach and in one fluid motion threw the knife neatly at the wall behind the bar where it stuck, quivering in the wood paneling. Jack's voice echoed in the empty room. "Lizzie! Calm yourself! Allie's my sister-in-law!"

-

* * *

. 

Lizzie sank to the floor, crossing her legs as she descended. She landed with her face covered by both hands, elbows on her knees. She sat that way until the world didn't feel like it was spinning in two directions at once. When she looked up, Jack and Allie were standing with the two girls between them. Everyone was staring down at her.

"Sister-in-law?"

Allie spoke first. "Aye. I was married to Jack's older brother Steven. In fact, Jack married us!" She smiled a sort of sad half-smile as she spoke. "And these—" she gestured to the girls, "---are Steven's daughters. The elder is Sam—I mean Samantha, and the younger is Roberta. Steven chose their names. He was sure both of them were going to be sons." The girls curtseyed as they were mentioned, and Lizzie automatically reached for her skirts to curtsey in return before remembering that she was not only wearing trousers, but sitting on a pub floor. The girls giggled and smiled at the strange lady who was dressed like their mother.

Lizzie looked up at Jack for confirmation of Allie's statement. He nodded. "Every word's true, love. Allie hooked him and she coerced me into helping her keep him. And these are _his_ offspring, although the Sparrow blood runs true enough that some _have_ thought they were mine." He winked at Allie. She smacked him on the shoulder over the heads of the girls, who both giggled uncontrollably.

Lizzie looked at Jack curiously. "I never knew you had any brothers or sisters!"

"You didn't ask! You had your chance…"

"How many are there?"

"There was just the one, but he's gone now." Jack's face fell as he finished the sentence.

The taller of the girls spoke up. "It's alright, Uncle Jack, da's gone, but you still have us, right?"

Jack looked at her. His eyes brightened a little, and he put an arm around her shoulders. "That's right, Sam. That's right."

-

* * *

. 

Still sitting on the floor, Lizzie shook her head. "So you two aren't..." She waved a finger back and forth at Jack and Allie.  
"...and they aren't..." She pointed to the two girls and then to Jack. Jack and Allie both shook their heads in response to her unasked questions.

Lizzie gripped her head in both hands and rocked to and fro like a distraught child. "'Missus Sparrow'... Jack, you _really_ need to warn me before you spring any more surprises on me!"

Allie burst out laughing. "You're not the only one who got a surprise! When Jack said you were his wife, I thought it had to be a practical joke. I might not have believed it at all until I saw the look on his face when you pulled out that knife. I think we all got a surprise just now. I never thought I'd see the day that Jack himself decided to forsake all of womankind for just one! Welcome to the family, Lizzie! Nice knife, by the way!"

"Oh!" Jack's eyes widened as he remembered something. He turned to the two girls. "Ladies, I left something large and important on the bench at the bottom of the hill. Would you two please be kind enough to go fetch it for me?" The girls ran out the front door of the pub giggling and shoving each other.

-

* * *

. 

Allie offered Lizzie a hand up off the floor. Lizzie took it and was surprised to find that the woman's hand was strong and tough, and she pulled Lizzie up off the floor with ease. When Lizzie got to her feet, they were facing each other. Lizzie really looked at Allie for the first time then. She realized with a start that Allie's entire appearance was surprisingly similar to her own. Allie was very close to her own height and build, just a bit curvier from having borne children. The sun-tanned English skin color was right. Both had hair of light brown; Allie's was streaked a bit lighter than Lizzie's from longer exposure to the Caribbean sunlight.

Lizzie couldn't help staring at Allie. "Do you feel like you're looking into a mirror?"

Allie nodded with the slightest of frowns. "Aye! It's like lookin' at a mirror that's just a bit off, i'n't it?"

Though they resembled one another to a great extent, both women were beautiful in different ways. Allie's countenance was like a watercolor portrait of Lizzie which had been dampened to soften the features.

Lizzie's face was formed of refined lines and planes connected with delicate, graceful curves. Allie's face was all gentle sweeps and arcs. The line of her jaw was not as strongly defined as Lizzie's; her forehead and cheekbones, wider and softer. Allie's nose was just the slightest bit upturned while Lizzie's was aristocratically straight.

But the biggest difference in their appearances were their eyes. Lizzie's amber brown eyes were almond shaped and deep set, adding a touch of mystery and allure to her elegant features. Allie's hazel eyes were slightly larger and wider set than Lizzie's. Combined with her full, cupid's-bow lips, Allie was naturally graced with the perennial guise of childlike innocence.

"Jack, I never knew you had a hankerin' for me!" Allie teased. "You found yourself a woman who could be my sister!"

"Pure chance, Allie, just pure chance. She fell out of the sky into the sea right in front of me." He grinned mischievously as he stepped between the two women to kiss Lizzie, who was embarrassed to be kissing him in front of a stranger. Then he stepped back a pace and looked between Lizzie and Allie several times before taking Lizzie's hat from her and placing it back on her head.

"This explains something that has always puzzled me, love. The day we first met on the dock at Port Royal, I wanted to call you Allie!"

-

* * *

. 

The bell on the front door jingled, and the girls danced in, each holding onto the hand of a panting Phillip. "Mama, look! It's grandpapa!"

"Papa!" Allie cried, and pushed past Jack and Lizzie to throw her arms around her father's neck.

"Ah, Allison, it's been too long!" Phillip replied, hugging his daughter and both granddaughters as best he could with just two arms.

Many things about the past months suddenly became as clear to Lizzie as the constellations on Phillip's night sky charts.

-

* * *

. 

A/N: Want to see Allie? While web surfing one day, I found the most amazing chalk drawing of Keira Knightly as Elizabeth. It's gorgeous, but IMO just the slightest bit too 'young' looking to be Elizabeth. But it's perfect as a depiction of Allie! Note, I wrote Allie's description _before _I found this drawing.

http://www (dot) fgemz (dot) com/pics/ Allie-Lizzie comparison (dot) jpg

The original art may be seen on at

http://pzb (dot) deviantart (dot) com/art/Elizabeth-3577048

I asked the artist for permission to link to her art, and received no reply. In the event that she replies and objects, the link to her art may disappear at any time. So look quick.


	71. Chapter 71 Mysteries Revealed

**_Ch 71 Mysteries Revealed_**

"Mama, the biscuits!" Sam pointed toward gray smoke just beginning to curl through the door behind the bar.

Allie muttered a curse under her breath and ran out of the room. As she passed behind the bar she cursed again as she kicked the pieces of the shattered mug. She didn't slow down as she called out, "Sam, would you sweep that up, please?", and disappeared around the corner.

Sam hurried behind the bar and reached for the broom to sweep up the shards of pottery. Bobby followed her, and looked for something to use to catch the mess as Sam swept. Lizzie heard the sound of a heavy oven door slamming open. The sound of Allie's footsteps faded away and returned a few seconds later.

Allie re-entered the room and stopped behind the bar, carrying a scorched pan held with a thickly folded apron.  
"The chickens will have to fight the parrots and wild pigs for those black lumps!" she grumbled. She turned to Sam. "Do you think you and your sister can make more biscuits by yourselves?"

The taller girl nodded vigorously, black curls bouncing. "Yes, mama, I can do it! And Bobby can help me!" Lizzie saw a look cross the younger girl's face that said she would rather do anything else in the world except help her sister bake. But her expression swiftly changed to one of defiance and then of resignation. Lizzie recognized all too well that Bobby knew her situation was hopeless and her best course of action was to just get it over with quickly rather than complaining.

"Good! Go on, then, we'll need biscuits to go with the dinner meal. Give the stew a stir too while you're in there, would you, loves? And take these with you!"

"Yes, mama!" Sam took the apron and the pan. The girls ran off through the door behind the bar and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

Allie sighed loudly as she finished cleaning up the broken mug. "Can you believe that Sam's thirteen now, Jack?"

Jack shook his head. "Has it really been that long?"

"Aye. Bobby's just turned seven a few weeks back…" Allie looked at Jack. His vacant gaze showed that his thoughts were already far from the room in which he stood. She stopped sweeping the last bits of pottery, and cupped her hands over the end of the broom handle as she addressed her late husband's brother. There was concern in her voice and on her face as she spoke.

"Seven years is a long time to grieve, Jack. We miss him dearly, but we're all gettin' by. Even you! You're back from the Locker, and now just look at you, married! I'm not sure which is the greater shock!"

Allie winked at Lizzie to include her in the joke. She laughed as she tried to draw Jack back into the conversation. "Jack Sparrow, married! There's somethin' I _never_ thought I'd see! I want to hear all about it! When did this take place, Jack?" Jack continued to stare at something only he could see, and appeared to be unable to hear Allie's voice. She leaned the broom against the wall, came out from behind the bar and touched his arm gently. "Jack? Jack, come back to us…" The last sentence came out in a soft, teasing sing-song tone.

Jack jerked, startled out of his memories. His eyes focused on Allie, but his attention returned to the conversation too late to catch her question. Lizzie realized he wasn't going to answer Allie, and stepped in.

"Just day before yesterday!" she replied, smiling shyly.

"Really? Were ye wed on a ship?"

"Yes, on the Black Pearl."

"Jack! Did _you _perform your _own wedding_?" Allie's voice rose in disbelief, suddenly stern.

Jack blinked nervously as he nodded.

"I didn't think it was legal for a captain to officiate his own wedding!"

Lizzie whipped around to frown at him. "Jack?"

Eyebrows arched haughtily, Jack made no eye contact with either woman as he replied. "Personally, I believe it's open to interpretation. The marine law books don't exactly state in so many words that it is, but they don't outright say that it's not, either…"

Allie and Lizzie both opened their mouths to speak, but before either of them could utter a word, Phillip spoke from where he'd seated himself on a bench. "It's legal in the case of an emergency when no other captain is available to perform the ceremony." Phillip hurried on before his daughter could interrupt with the question he knew she was about to ask. "The law books don't list every possible situation that qualifies, but I'd say theirs was a true emergency!" He smiled at Jack and Lizzie. "If they'd waited even one more day, the crew would've killed'em both fer bein' stubborn, pig-headed fools!"

"Is it really true about that law, papa?" Allie eyed him suspiciously. Lizzie continued to frown at Jack.

"Aye, lass, it is. I did a bit o'readin' about marriage at sea after a certain daughter of mine ran off with a privateer captain. It's legal; these two are lawfully wed. I wish ye'd been there to see it. Middle o' the night, 'e wakes up the crew with the alarm bell so's we could all witness 'im marryin' 'er right there on the deck!" Lizzie's face relaxed, and Jack smiled and winked at her.

"Never a worry, love! I knew it was legal all along!" Lizzie raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

The suspicion in Allie's face vanished, and she smiled at Jack and Lizzie. "It sounds even more tossed-off than our wedding was!" She spoke directly to Lizzie as she continued. "I climbed over the wall of an Anglican girls' school in the wee hours, so I could run off with Steven!"

"No! You don't say!" Lizzie clapped her hand over her mouth in mock astonishment, remembering as she did so that Phillip had told her the same story from his point of view months earlier.

Allie's smile widened as she watched Lizzie's reaction. It had been a long time since she'd had a new audience for her favorite stories, and even longer since she'd had one so appreciatively enthusiastic. She went on happily. Her voice became excited and her accent thickened as she told the story to Lizzie.

"After I escaped, we searched nigh every pub in Portsmouth to find 'is brother, another ships' captain, so's to 'ave 'im marry us. We found Jack alright, passed out in a corner, drunk as a lord. That was my first meeting with this one. Real impressed, I was!" She stabbed a thumb in Jack's direction, grinning devilishly. Jack raised his nose and glared at her down the length as if to convey the impression that he was sure she was exaggerating. Only his faint smirk let Lizzie know that he enjoyed his part in the story more than he was willing to admit to Allie.

"Steven hoisted Jack over 'is shoulder and hauled 'im back to 'is own ship like a sack o'grain. 'E wouldn't let Jack go back to sleep until 'e'd married us first. Poor Jack could hardly stand up, let alone see to read the words in the prayer book. Steven propped 'im up against a mast, and put a barrel under 'im to 'old 'im up while he married us. I'll never know exactly what we agreed to in our vows, but I'm sure it wasn't what the book said! By the time he was finished we were all howling so hard it didn't matter anymore!" She laughed heartily at the memory.

Lizzie gained a sudden understanding of why Jack didn't know how proper wedding vows were supposed to go. Her sense of relief that theirs had gone as well as they did was sudden and profound.

Allie went on, still laughing. "Steven insisted that it'd compromise my honor if he even let me board his ship before we were wed! Can you believe that? By then I didn't care. In my mind, I was already well and duly dammed. I'd cast my lot in with him when I ran away. The nuns wouldn't have had me back in the school. I was as good as ruined anyway. There was no turning back after that. But he was so proper…" She looked at Jack. "I still don't know how your mum turned out two boys so different in nature!"

Jack's stomach chose that moment to interrupt with a very loud rumble. "Bugger... Sorry, Allie! The smell of whatever you're cooking is calling out to me!"

"If I'd known ye were comin', I'd have made somethin' other than fish chowder!"

"Doesn't matter what it is, as long as the fish wasn't dried and salted!"

Bobby skidded around the end of the bar and slid to a stop next to her mother. She was covered in flour from her face to her feet. "Mama," she panted, "the biscuits are in the oven!" Lizzie covered her mouth with her hand and pretended to cough as she tried not to laugh at the girl who reminded her so much of herself.

Allie smiled at her youngest and tried very hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "How many biscuits did you manage to actually get on the pan? You're wearin' enough flour to make least a dozen!"

"As many as you always make! I just have to work a little harder at it, that's all!" She put her hands on her hips, and her tone was absolutely serious.

"Tell your sister to stay in there and watch this batch as it bakes. Then you go get cleaned up before it's time to eat!"

"Yes, mama!" Bobby turned and ran off, leaving a fine cloud of flour hanging in the air behind her.

Allie put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. "Oh, that one's goin' to be the death of me! Sam wants to grow up to be a fine lady, and she's polite as can be and sweet as molasses. Always wantin' to cook and help out around here. But Bobby's a tomboy with a temper. She's always dirty, and constantly playin' rough and tumble pretend games, forever disappearin' to go play where she shouldn't be playin', and gettin' into fights. She and Sam are as different as…" She stopped, and blinked at Jack. "Oh… Maybe it wasn't all your mum's doing…"

* * *

By the time the biscuits were ready, Allie had chunky stew full of fish and vegetables served up in bowls for all of them. Allie and Sam set places for everyone at a table near the bar. Bobby, still bearing traces of flour in her hair and eyebrows, carried in a basket of fresh biscuits and a small dish of butter. Lizzie felt her mouth begin to water when the smells of the hot food reached her nose. It hadn't been that long since her last good meal, thanks to Renato. But she still didn't love ships' rations.

Allie seated Jack and Phillip at the ends of the oval table. Sam and Bobby had a difficult decision to make. They had to choose whether to sit with their grandfather or their uncle. In the end, Uncle Jack won out and had a doting girl at each hand, which placed Allie and Lizzie across from one another, both next to Phillip. Sam said a proper prayer over the food before they started to eat, and made sure that everyone clasped hands and prayed along.

* * *

Lizzie took a bite of the stew. It was delicious, a combination of fish, vegetables, cream, lots of butter and spices she could not identify. The biscuits were light and tasty, if perhaps a bit lumpy and misshapen. And there was a whole pot of tea to drink, which Lizzie thought might just be the very best part of the meal. It had been months since she'd had unlimited access to tea. She refilled her cup several times.

The inn had no other patrons, a fact that wasn't lost on Jack. "Allie, where are the paying customers? Shouldn't you have more people in here this time of day than just us?"

Allie shook her head. "There's no ships in the main harbor right now other than pirates, and they don't come up here often, leastwise not during the day. Most of 'em don't like it that I've got rules in my establishment different from the rest o' the inns on Tortuga. So when there's no merchant ships, or rumrunners, or the rare off-course passenger ship stoppin' over here, we don't usually have much to do. The girls and I spend a lot of time in the garden." She gestured toward the front of the inn.

"What sort of rules?" asked Lizzie. She'd been in exactly one other inn on Tortuga, and it seemed to her at the time to be the most lawless place on earth. Allie laughed cheerily at the question.

Lizzie noticed her clear and happy laughter. _She seems to laugh often for a woman who lost her husband and is raising two children alone. She's certainly different from all the other widows I've ever met who mourn for decades and never smile again. _

"Well, for one, I don't allow the whores in here, except to eat if someone else is payin' for their meal. They're always tryin' to run up credit. And they're not allowed upstairs. There's enough brothels on this island already. And I don't allow any fightin' inside the building. If someone's got a grudge to settle, they'd best step outside, and they'd best stay out of my flowers. No weapons drawn inside either, or they've got me to deal with!" The wicked smile that accompanied that statement looked out of place on her angelic face. "Oh! Speakin' of weapons, your pretty knife is still stuck in my wall!"

Allie leapt up and went behind the bar to retrieve the knife. Lizzie took it and stood up to put it into her belt. In doing so, she pushed back Jack's borrowed and over-large vest, exposing the hilt of her sword. Allie pointed at it as she spoke to Jack. "There it is! I wondered if you even remembered you had it after all this time! Where'd you hide it when you didn't have the Pearl all those years? And here you said it would never be used…" Her voice was gleeful, and brimming with unspoken 'I told you so's'.

Lizzie looked curiously at Jack. He was watching Allie with an expression that Lizzie would have sworn was guilt. Allie noticed it immediately. "What's that look for, mister?"

"Um…Allie…that's not the sword you think it is."

"Jack, what sword is it then?"

"Allie… I sold my other one after---"

"YOU SOLD IT? WHY?" Allie's voice went up two octaves as she screeched the questions.

Phillip and the girls jumped when she raised her voice. Phillip quietly motioned the girls out of the room and took them off to the kitchen with their bowls before returning to stand next to his daughter.

Jack carefully examined the partly eaten bowl of stew in front of him before replying. "I had no intention of ever using it for its planned purpose…and I needed the money."

"WHERE did you sell it? And WHEN?" Allie's eyes narrowed and her face reddened as she spoke.

"In a tavern somewhere in Norway, I think. Maybe Greenland. Antarctica? Someplace cold. 'm not quite sure where, actually. There were reindeer…" He touched the odd bone that rested on his forehead, tied into his head scarf. "As to when? Right about seven years ago. It's long gone…"

"JACK! You have to get it back! That was part of your family legacy! You _sold_ it? What did you do then, give her _your_ sword?"

Jack looked pale. "No…" He pulled his vest aside to show Allie the hilt of his own sword.

Allie's face went from red to white, completely washing out her tan. She looked rapidly from Jack's sword to Lizzie's. Allie clutched at her father's shoulder and eased herself back into her chair. "Jack, where the hell did you get it? I saw it fall from him into the sea as we crossed that gangplank! It was lost!"

"Allie…it turned up on the Pearl. It was in a box of rusty old weapons in the hold when I got her back. I had no idea it was there. I don't know how or when it came aboard. My first mate gave it to Lizzie as a joke when she needed a sword. He told me later that it was so bad with rust that he didn't think she'd be able to salvage it. When she showed me what she had after she cleaned it up, my first words were the same as yours…"

Lizzie could not stand it any longer. "What are you talking about? Whose sword is this?"

Allie and Jack both answered her together. "It was Steven's."

* * *

A/N: "Cast my lot in" means "to join or side with, no matter what the outcome"


	72. Chapter 72 Hello, Goodbye, Hello

_Ch 72 Hello, Goodbye, Hello  
_

Lizzie blinked in surprised confusion. Her first thought was for Allie. "If this was your husband's, then you should have it…" She began to unbuckle the sword belt.

Allie made frantic negative gestures with her hands. "No! No! If it found its way to you, it's not meant to be mine!"

She turned to Jack, hysteria edging into her voice. "But Jack, I don't understand how it came to be aboard your ship! I know I saw it fall into the water!" Jack's only response was a shrug of his shoulders. Staring at the sword hanging at Lizzie's side, Allie murmured. "Jack, you really don't have the fourth one, then…"

Jack looked at the table as he shook his head. "No, it's long since gone. When the news reached me, I sold it as soon as I could. I swore it wouldn't happen to me too."

"I see…" Allie folded her hands on the edge of the table and examined them for a moment before getting up. She went behind the bar and returned with yet another dark leather scabbard covered at mouth and drag in detailed metal. From the scabbard protruded the ornate handle of a third sword identical to the two that Jack and Elizabeth carried. Allie unsheathed the sword and offered it to Lizzie, hilt first.

Lizzie carried it to the sunny window near the end of the bar. The original leather and gold wire wrapping on the hilt was intact. It made the sword feel older and heavier than the one she carried. Allie's sword blade had not been darkened recently and the faint engraving was difficult to read. It took Lizzie a moment to make out the short phrase.

_Non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis_

She spoke the words aloud. "Not for you, not for me, but for us."

"Aye, that's right. That's what it says." Allie confirmed. "Jack, what did it say on the one that is supposed to be hers?" Lizzie thought she heard a tiny knife being twisted in the words 'is supposed to be' as Allie spoke them.

Jack said flatly, "I don't recall." Allie opened her mouth to speak again, but Jack cut her off as he stood up. "Enough." He strode out the front door of the inn, leaving his meal half-eaten.

Lizzie watched as he left, wide-eyed with concern. She didn't want to take sides in something that wasn't her affair, but she felt she should be with her husband. She laid Allie's sword on the table between the dishes and followed Jack outside.

* * *

He was halfway across the garden by the time Lizzie got out the door. She was forced to run to catch up with him, no mean feat with wobbly sea legs.

"Jack, what's wrong? Why did you leave like that? Where are you going?" she panted, as she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

Jack turned around at her touch. Lizzie could tell that he was fighting to keep his expression neutral. He failed badly, and the result made him look like he had a cramp. "Nothing's wrong. I just recalled that I've got business to take care of in town." He patted the pocket that Lizzie knew contained the jewels from the Celestina.

"You just got up and walked out! You didn't even excuse yourself! Don't you think that was rude to Allie?"

Jack ceased attempting to look neutral. Anger and sadness clouded his features as he snapped, "My manners are not up for discussion. And my reason for and method of departure are immaterial. I need to go into town, so I'm going into town. Savvy?"

"Do you have to go right now?"

"Yes, right now, no time for idle chit-chat! Time is flying and so must I!"

"I want to come with you!"

Jack shook his head until the coins on his braids rang. "Absolutely out of the question! I have a pocket full of gems, and by now the whole crew has flashed their gold all over town, so everyone knows we're all flush with treasure. I want to draw as little attention to m'self as possible. Having you accompanying me would accomplish precisely that which I don't want. I can stay hidden and move faster in the back streets much more better alone, savvy? You stay here, and don't wander too far, because when I get back, we're leaving."

"Leaving? But we just came ashore!"

"As captain, it's always my prerogative to change my mind, and so I did."

"But—so you're just going to leave me here alone while you gallivant off without me?"

"Gallivanting is not the same as attending to business. And you won't be alone. There's plenty of company for you inside! I suggest you go back and finish your supper. Allie hates to see food go to waste." Lizzie immediately thought of the unfinished food Jack had left on the table. Jack seemed to know what she was thinking, because he looked down at his boots as he added quietly, "I wasn't as hungry as I thought… it's not a crime, is it?"

Lizzie touched Jack's wrist to get him to look at her. "How long will you be gone?"

Jack's face relaxed as he answered her. "Until I finish the business at hand." He patted his pocket once more.

Lizzie tried again. "How long will that take?"

"As long as necessary!" Jack began to smile. Whatever had been bothering him seconds earlier had been set aside.

"When should I expect to see you?"

"When I get back, of course!"

Lizzie felt her face reddening in frustration. "What time will you be back?"

"About half an hour after I leave the town, if the weather is fair and the wind is in my favor."

Lizzie clenched her fists at her sides. "Oooh! You're maddening!"

Jack smiled proudly and bowed. "Thank you! It's good to know that death hasn't adversely affected my talents!"

He watched Lizzie's mouth open and close as she tried unsuccessfully to find an appropriate response. "The correct answer to all of your questions is 'I don't know'. I hope you can hold out until I get back. Allie can be a ferocious gossip, and I know how much you hate to talk!" He winked at Lizzie and reached as if he was going to touch her chin. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her. As he did so, he slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her tightly against him.

Lizzie's body responded even as her mind tried to make sense of Jack's sudden mood changes. She returned his kiss with growing enthusiasm. Just as Lizzie remembered that they could be seen from the window of the inn, Jack let go of her and stepped back.

"Just something to think about while I'm gone, love!" He gave her a roguish grin and disappeared down the steps before she could say a word. By the time Lizzie got to the top of the steps, Jack was out of sight

Lizzie sank onto the top step and rubbed her face with her hands. _Oh, that man is maddening!_ She tangled her fingers into her hair and pulled on it. _I still don't know why he stormed out during dinner. He certainly managed to avoid talking about it just now. Whatever has he gotten me into this time?_

* * *

After taking a few minutes to regain her composure, Lizzie got to her feet and returned to the inn. Phillip and Allie were seated at the table; they stopped speaking when Lizzie entered. Allie gestured to Lizzie to sit down, and said simply, "Well?"

"He up and left, and went into town! He said we're leaving when he gets back. I don't understand a bit of this!"

Allie turned to Phillip. "At least we have some warning this time..."

Lizzie was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"He usually just leaves; no warning, no goodbye—he just gets up and walks out."

Phillip cleared his throat. "I don't know if you've noticed, Lizzie, but Jack's a bit of an odd duck." Lizzie was forced to swallow her laughter as Phillip continued speaking without a pause. "I don't think 'e's ever gotten over his brother's death. Every time 'e's reminded of it, it sets 'im off--like just now. 'e gets upset, 'e leaves, 'e goes off and finds something to distract 'im so 'e forgets again."

Lizzie frowned. "Please pardon my asking, I mean no offense. But if it bothers him to come here, then why does he?"

Allie replied with a shrug, "No offense taken, it's a good question. We're all the family he's got left. He feels he has to come. And we do want him to visit, really. He's the only other relative my girls have besides Papa. I wish it didn't pain Jack so to see us, but I don't know what do to. He never stays more than a few hours. He always comes in so happy, but soon enough he gets moody and vanishes every time."

Lizzie went pale and gripped the edge of the table with both hands. "He wouldn't leave me here, would he?"

"No, 'e wouldn't leave you behind, I'm sure of it." Phillip replied, trying to calm her.

"There it is!" Allie smacked the table with her palm. "If Lizzie can keep 'im 'ere for a few days, maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Lizzie was suspicious.

"Maybe Jack'll start to accept things the way they are, instead of the way 'e wants them to be."

"Don't count any of those chickens just yet," Phillip warned his daughter. "But it's worth a try!"

"What might ye do to get him to stay, Lizzie? We just want Jack to be happy again." Allie's eyes were bright above her hopeful smile.

"Well, before we left the ship, we had discussed trying to find a church to marry us while we're here…" Lizzie began.

Allie cut her off. "Whatever for? You're already wed!"

"Um…" Lizzie thought fast. "My father is very old-fashioned, and I don't think he'd accept a marriage at sea as binding. I'm going to need a marriage certificate from a church to convince him."

Allie laughed. "There's only one church on Tortuga, and the priest only performs weddings on Sundays. I think the Catholic Church requires banns to be read at masses for three weeks beforehand. That might keep you here for a month!"

* * *

Allie got up to clear the table. Lizzie jumped to her feet to help.

"You needn't do that, Lizzie. You're a guest!"

"Oh no, I'll have none of that. Besides, I can't sit still for wondering what Jack's up to!" Lizzie picked up some of the bowls and plates, and followed Allie into the kitchen. Sam was sitting on a stool near the window, reading a book. She carefully tucked a ribbon into it to mark her place when the women entered. Allie put her armful of dishes on a table, and indicated that Lizzie should do the same.

"Samantha, where's your sister?"

"She said she had to use the privy. That was two chapters ago."

"Would you go find her? Your uncle has gone out on business, and your aunt is staying here to visit."

Samantha smiled brightly as she stood up. "I'll be right back. I think I can guess where she is." She set the book on the stool and left the kitchen.

Lizzie looked around the room. Its main feature was a large iron stove and oven on the wall next to the window. In the center of the room was a table for preparing food and in one corner was a sink with a pump and spigot. Lizzie turned to Allie. "You have a water pump right in the kitchen?" _Oh, the cooks at father's house would be so jealous!_

Allie nodded happily. "Oh yes! Watch this!" She turned the spigot and began to pump the handle. After a moment, water poured from the spout. "Put your hand in it!" Allie encouraged Lizzie.

The water had barely touched her hand when Lizzie jerked it away. "It's hot!" How...?"

"This place is a marvel! It was built by a merchant captain who retired here with his wife and three daughters. This whole island sits atop a volcano and there are hot springs everywhere. The captain had one of the hot springs tapped. There's hot water piped to every room except the dining rooms and the store room! I was amazed that the house was empty. But the locals thought it was haunted, and nobody would buy it after the old captain died. The captain's last daughter, who lives in the colonies now, sold it to me for a pittance just to rid herself of any ties to Tortuga."

"Haunted!" Lizzie exclaimed. "Is it?"

Allie laughed heartily. "You don't believe in ghost stories, do you, Lizzie?"

The look she received in reply told her all she needed to know.

* * *

Sam returned a few minutes later, followed by a scowling Bobby. There was a three-cornered tear in Bobby's skirt. Her face and hands, as well as her clothes, were covered with dark gray dust.

Allie frowned at her daughter. "What were ye doin', Roberta Sparrow?"

"I was playing in the stable, mama."

"Again? What's so fascinatin' about that old stable? It's no place for a lady!"

"There's lots of interesting things up in the rafters, and I can pretend to be anything I want to be! Nobody bothers me there…not until you send Sam after me, anyway."

Lizzie said, "That stable sounds like fun!"

Bobby looked at Lizzie in amazement, and her dirty, sullen face split into an enormous smile. Lizzie could see both Allie and Jack--_no, Steven_--in the little girl's pretty features when she smiled.

"You think so?" Allie asked, incredulous.

"I haven't played in an old building without being scolded for it in a long, long time!" Lizzie turned to Bobby. "I hope I get a chance to explore it with you before we leave. Until then, maybe you should get cleaned up so you make a proper impression if any guests come."

"Yes, ma'am!" Bobby smiled, dipped a quick but perfect curtsy and dashed out of the kitchen, leaving a stunned Allie staring after her. Allie turned to Lizzie. "You're magic!" she muttered.

Lizzie thought back to the many times that she had been more cooperative for her father's acquaintances than she was for her only parent. "It wouldn't have worked if she was mine", she whispered. She turned to Sam. "What were you reading?" Sam picked up the book and held it so Lizzie could see the cover. It read, "_Robinson Crusoe"._

"I've read that! It's a wonderful adventure story, isn't it?"

Sam nodded, smiling. "I like it very well so far, but I haven't finished it yet."

"Oh! Then I won't say more about it until you're through, so I don't spoil it for you. Are you reading it for lessons?"

"No, someone left it here. We don't get many books, so I read whatever I can."

_Both of these girls are so like me! _ Lizzie felt close to the girls already. She thought of all the books that were in her little corner of her father's library. There was no room for them on the Pearl. "I might be able to have more books sent here, if I can get word to my father." Sam's smile got bigger at the thought of new books to read.

"Where's your father, then?" asked Allie as she sat a kettle of water on the stove.

"Last I've heard, he was in Port Royal. I've written to him, and asked him to post his response here. I hope that's alright with you. It was Jack's suggestion!"

"Oh, that's fine. I hold mail for a few of the rum runners and a merchant captain. I certainly don't mind holding mail for family as well!"

Bobby slid to a stop in the hall outside the kitchen door. She composed herself, and entered the room in an almost ladylike fashion. She had brushed the dust off her clothing. Her face and hands were clean, and her wildly curly hair was combed as well as she could manage.

"Mama, I think I'm going to need help mending my skirt. Can Aunt Lizzie help me?" She looked at Lizzie hopefully, holding up the torn section of skirt. Lizzie raised her eyebrows in what she hoped looked like mock terror. "I haven't sewn anything in a very long time. I'm not sure how much help I can offer!" Her answer was entirely truthful

Sam saw her chance and leapt at it. "I can help!" Before Lizzie knew what had happened, she was being bustled to the back of the house with a smiling girl holding each hand. She looked helplessly back at Allie over her shoulder. Allie waved a cheery goodbye, sat down and picked up Sam's book.

* * *


	73. Chapter 73 Here and There

_Ch 73 Here and There_

The short hall from the kitchen to the exit at the rear of the inn led past two more rooms. The door on the right stood open, allowing Lizzie an opportunity to glance in as she passed. The small room held a tall bed. The edge of a trundle bed was visible underneath it. A large ornate armoire looked completely out of place next to the rustic bed.

The tiny room right behind the kitchen served multiple purposes. It contained a pantry cupboard and open shelves that held sacks of beans, flour and rice, and bottles of various shapes and sizes. Dusty dishes and mugs were stacked on one shelf. In addition, a bed just big enough for one person was tucked into a corner behind the cupboard. Centered in front of the room's only window was an old, heavily patched settee upholstered with what had once been expensive brocaded tapestry.

It was to the settee that Sam and Bobby led Lizzie. The girls seated themselves with Lizzie between them. Sam reached under the seat and pulled out a small basket that held needles, thread, a tiny pair of scissors, and a few scraps of fabric for patching. Bobby stood up and took off her skirt, exposing the fact that she wore nothing underneath but her long chemise. She put her finger to her lips and said "Shhh!" to Sam and Lizzie conspiratorially as she squeezed back into her spot on the small settee.

Sam frowned in disapproval. "Where is your petticoat?"

"It gets in my way!" Bobby shot back in a whisper. "Now help me fix this before mama sees me!" She looked at Lizzie apologetically and added "Please?" The three of them set about the task of patching the torn skirt.

Trying to be of some use, Lizzie carefully cut a patch to fit over the tear in Bobby's skirt. Sam showed Bobby how to stitch it neatly to the skirt, with the air of one who has repeated the same lesson too many times. She insisted that Bobby practice the stitching while she watched. The expression on Bobby's face as she took the needle and skirt from her sister made it clear exactly how she felt about sewing. It was easy for Lizzie to tell their work apart. Sam's stitches were neat and orderly, and all the same exact size. Bobby's stitching was no less sturdy, but it was much more random in appearance.

Lizzie paid careful attention to Sam's technique. Soon after joining the crew of the Pearl she'd realized that sewing wasn't just busy work for bored ladies. Ever since, she wished she'd paid more attention the many times she'd been instructed by various nannies and governesses. Maybe this time the lesson would stick with her.

--

Jack looked around in all directions, scanning the shadows for any movement. Satisfied that he hadn't been followed through the back alleys of Tortuga, he cautiously opened the door to the unmarked shop and slipped inside. Just beyond the door, a man seated on a short stool raised a large pistol and pointed it at Jack's head. "State yer business…" he growled.

"I'm here to see Toro. I've got work for him."

"And who be ye? Is 'e expectin' ye?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow, and he wouldn't be expecting me because until quite recently I was dead, savvy?"

The man frowned as he tried to make sense of the statement. He finally stood up and stomped one heavy boot on the wooden plank floor. A moment later a man wearing a leather apron over his clothes appeared through a door in the back of the room. "Aye, Nate?"

"Cyrus, tell Toro that Cap'n…" He turned to Jack. "What's yer name agin?"

"Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack repeated slowly and clearly as his shoulders rose and fell in an exaggerated sigh.

"Tell 'im Cap'n Sparrow's 'ere to see 'im." As the aproned man left, the door guard turned back to Jack. "Just stay where ye are."

Cyrus returned promptly. "Toro will see you."

Nate growled, "You'll 'ave to leave all your weapons out 'ere." He waved the pistol at an empty table, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the stool upon which he sat. "Go on, drop'em!"

"Yes, yes, I've done this before." With another irritated sigh, Jack began the process of removing the shoulder belt that held his sword and its sheath, the bag that held the shot and powder for his pistol, the pistol itself, and finally his knife. He laid everything neatly in a line on the table, turned and smiled as he held his open hands out to his sides to show the man that he was unarmed.

"Hat," said Nate, waving his gun at Jack's leather tricorne.

"Bugger," mumbled Jack, "I don't feel whole without m'hat." He removed his hat and placed it next to his pistol. Nate nodded. "Alright, go on."

Jack smiled and headed for the door, but an arm across his chest prevented him from reaching it. Cyrus said, "One more thing, just a precaution. I'm sure you understand."

Jack rolled his eyes upward. "What now?"

He gestured for Jack to raise his arms. As Jack did so, the man began patting down Jack's body, feeling for hidden weapons. Jack grumbled, "You could at least buy me a drink first!" as the man felt his way down Jack's legs to his ankles.

"Like it, do ye?" Cyrus growled as he stood up. Satisfied that Jack really was unarmed, he indicated that Jack should follow him, and stepped through the door.

"What was that all about?" Jack asked as they walked down a narrow hallway.

"Had some trouble last week. Some fool got a gun past us hid in his trousers and went after Toro. Gabe had to shoot'im. Made a helluva mess. Now we're going to have to redecorate." Jack grimaced as he noticed the dark blotches and spatters on the light colored wall paper and the polished wooden floor just outside the door where they had stopped.

The man opened the door and stepped aside for Jack. The door opened into a wide, brightly lit room. Tall windows covered three of the room's four walls. Several workbenches, each with a rack of small tools, had been placed beneath the windows. Cyrus took a seat at one of the benches, and went directly to work on something very small. Several other men worked at the other benches. Only one bench remained empty.

Another guard perched on a stool facing the door, holding a pistol in his lap. As Jack entered, the man watched him warily and made a menacing gesture with his gun. Jack nodded in his direction. "Gabe," he acknowledged. He glanced outside and saw that the windows opened onto a high-walled courtyard. Two more armed men sat in the sun outside, watching in through the glass.

In the center of the room stood a desk covered with black cloth. Hunched over it, a burly, dark-haired man examined something through what appeared to be a very short spyglass. He slipped the object he was looking at into his pocket and stood up as Jack entered. He was only a few inches taller than Jack, but probably twice his weight.

"Ah, Jack, my friend! What a surprise!" His accent was thick and quite unlike the commonly heard accents of the islanders, slaves and transplanted Spanish immigrants who peopled much of the Caribbean. Smiling broadly, the man came around the desk and took Jack's hand to shake it as he slapped Jack jovially on the shoulder with his other hand. Jack's knuckles cracked loudly as the man squeezed, and he stumbled as the slap connected. When he finally retrieved his hand, he shook it and rubbed it with his other hand to try to revive it.

"Ah, Toro, I see you're still as gentle and delicate as always… and I'd hazard that your personal defenses are better than the King's these days!" Jack breathed through clenched teeth.

Toro laughed. "One cannot be too careful in my business! So tell me Jack, rumor has it that you had died and left the whores of Tortuga heartbroken! This is a story I must hear! Come in, come in, sit down and tell me all about it! What wonders have you purloined from beyond death's gates?" He laughed at his own words as he pulled out a chair and sat down, ignoring the ominous creaking of the chair under his weight.

"That's the only rumor you've heard about me lately? I'm disappointed!" Jack took a seat across the desk from Toro, and reached into his vest pocket to pull out the heavy bag of jewelry from the Celestina.

--

Bobby was unable to sit and sew quietly next to her new aunt. She wanted to know all about Lizzie's life as a pirate aboard the Black Pearl. She squirmed for a few moments while the curiosity bubbled up inside her. The questions finally burst forth in a rush. "Aunt Lizzie, have you ever found buried treasure? Did you ever see a whale? Have you ever been in the crow's nest? Have you ever killed anybody?"

Sam snapped at her, "Bobby! That was terribly rude! Mind your manners! Why are you so interested in pirating, anyway?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as she leaned around Lizzie to glare at her sister. "You got to live on a ship, and climb the rigging and sail the seas, and you don't even appreciate it! I never got to do any of that, and I'm the one who really wants to! Why wasn't I born first so I could have done all those things instead of you?"

Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Here we go again… Mama says…"

Bobby interrupted her by looking back to Lizzie, her eyes shining with newfound hope.

"Aunt Lizzie, do you think that you can convince Uncle Jack to let me sail on the Black Pearl with you? When I ask him he always says 'perhaps, perchance, possibly, someday when you're much, much older, maybe'." She imitated Jack's tone and inflections perfectly.

Lizzie bit her lip and thought for a moment. "I can ask him, Bobby, but I can't promise that he'll give me a more favorable answer than he's given you."

Bobby threw her arms around Lizzie's neck and hugged her. "Thank you! I just know he'll say yes if _you_ ask him!" Lizzie fought the panic that rose up inside her as she pictured Jack's response and having to give his answer to a heartbroken Bobby. _I can guess what Jack will say, and I'm sure it won't be 'someday, maybe'._

Bobby slipped back into her place on the settee and seized up the skirt that she had dropped when she leapt up to hug Lizzie. She began stitching with new enthusiasm.

Sam sighed. "I must admit, it would be lovely to be able to sail wherever you want to go, and visit different places. Where have you gone with Uncle Jack, Aunt Lizzie? Have you been to all the great cities of Europe? I would very much like to go on a Grand Tour of Italy someday, and I'd love to see London and Paris, and Castile, Spain!"

"Why on earth do you want to go to Castile? It's not a major city. It's not even a port!"

Sam smiled at the question. "Mama says that's where our grand-mum was born. I just want to see it, that's all."

_Odd, Phillip never mentioned that his wife was Spanish… _Lizzie began listing off the places the Pearl had taken her. "We haven't been to Europe, but let me think where we have gone… we've sailed to Isla de Muerta, several of the Caribbean islands, Singapore, all along the west coast of California, South America…" As she talked, Bobby finished the stitching and tied off the thread. Sam clipped it with the scissors, and Bobby quickly donned the skirt. Just as she finished dressing, Allie appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I couldn't help but overhear, and my curiosity's got the better of me! How long have you been sailing with Jack?"

"Which time?" Lizzie counted on her fingers. "First, cursed undead pirates invaded the town where I lived. That's when I first met Jack. He saved me from drowning. I was kidnapped by those same pirates. Jack helped rescue me, and that's when he got the Black Pearl back. Then a year later I sailed with him again to save my fiancé from being imprisoned forever on Davy Jones' ship."

Allie interrupted her with a surprised laugh. "Fiancé? You were betrothed to someone else before Jack? Do tell!"

Lizzie blushed but shook her head and kept talking. "Another time, perhaps. And then Jack… well, he was swallowed by the Kraken." Lizzie felt a pang of guilt at the memory.

Allie looked away, trying to hide her amusement. The girls giggled. Bobby said, "Her stories sound just like Uncle Jack's!"

Lizzie smiled crookedly, eyebrows raised. "It all sounds incredible, doesn't it? But I'm telling the truth. There are a lot of strange things in this world. I didn't believe they existed until I saw them with my own eyes. Jack was swallowed whole by the Kraken, and it took his ship to the bottom of the sea in one piece. I went with his crew on the voyage beyond the edge of the world to go rescue him and the ship from Davy Jones' locker. It's all real, all true."

The girls fell silent and looked to their mother, but Allie didn't respond. Lizzie waited a moment before continuing her story.

"After we got Jack free of the Locker, that same fiancé up and left me on my own in Singapore. I had to beg Jack to let me join his crew so I could get back to the Caribbean. We fought all the way here, and suddenly two days ago he up and proposed. When I agreed, he called the crew together and you heard the rest. There's much more, of course, but I think it would take months to tell it all!"

Allie shook her head in amazement. "I truly hope we'll get to hear all of it, Lizzie, especially more about that fiancé!" She smiled and winked at Lizzie. "It sounds like you've had more adventures in just a few months than some people have in an entire lifetime."

--

Jack nodded to Nate as he left the dusty building. The man only grunted in reply and shifted his pistol to his other hand to scratch his nose.

Jack stopped on the stoop and looked around the dingy side street. He began to stretch his arms and smile, but abruptly scowled, forced his hands to his sides, and let his shoulders sag. It wasn't good to be seen leaving Toro's establishment looking pleased; it was asking to be clubbed and robbed in the nearest alley. Toro wasn't just another shop owner; he was a jeweler turned smuggler turned fence, and was one of the best in each business. He knew everyone who was anyone in the jewelry world, legitimate or otherwise, and could find a buyer or a seller for anything one could imagine.

Jack had a reason to look pleased. Toro, a talkative but temperamental Greek man with an unpronounceable real name, had been enthusiastic about the treasures Jack had brought to be appraised. The few pieces he had examined closely in Jack's presence had all been declared 'magnificent'. Toro had told Jack that if everything was as high quality as those first few, the parcel would bring a tidy sum. Toro was so sure of the value of the gems that he was willing to front the money to pay Jack himself, rather than making him wait until the items were sold.

But as was usual with any of Jack's plans, there was a problem. Toro wasn't going to do the work immediately.

"I must examine every gem closely, as you know, to provide a fair estimate for both of us. And such work takes much time, and strains the eyes. I only work when the sun is at its brightest. What you have brought to me is too much for one day, or two even! Is dinner time for me now, and I can only do so much this afternoon and tomorrow. And even God takes His rest on the Sabbath, why should I not do the same? So all you ask will not be completed until Monday. Come back then, I will have everything for you by mid-day."

Jack had wheedled and cajoled, encouraging Toro to work harder, faster, longer, to finish everything in one afternoon, but to no avail. Deciding that angering Toro was not in his best interests, Jack said good-bye, reclaimed his hat and his weapons, and left the shop.

As he thought about the delay that would force him to remain on or at least very near Tortuga for four days, Jack found it easier to look sufficiently disappointed. Finally satisfied with the way his expression felt to his fingertips, he shrugged and stepped out into the dirty street that led to the even dirtier town square. His thoughts were intent on his next destination.

Just before he reached the corner, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "Jack Sparrow!" a deep, gravelly voice spoke from behind him. "Just the man we've been lookin' fer!"

--

A/N:

_Chemise_—a long shirt-like garment worn under dresses, similar to a slip; also sometimes called a "shift". Elizabeth was wearing one in the island scene in PotC:CotBP. The chemise was worn beneath all other clothing to protect the other garments from sweat and skin oil, and was probably the only garment that was washed fairly regularly.

_Fence_—someone who sells stolen goods for others in return for a share of the profits.


	74. Chapter 74 Girl Talk

_**CH 74 Girl Talk **_

Allie asked, "Girls, let's not keep your aunt in the pantry all day! Lizzie, would you like to see the rest of the place? Perhaps I'm too proud of it, but I do love to show it off when I get the opportunity!"

Lizzie followed Allie and the girls out the back door of the inn. There were several additional buildings at the rear that were not visible from the path leading to the front door. One of those was the stable that Bobby had mentioned. Lizzie exclaimed, "The stable is large enough to house at least six horses! But there isn't even a real road on this island! Whatever was it used for?"

Allie replied, "The captain's wife and daughters insisted on having a carriage when he brought them here from England. So he had a four horse carriage built for them! But of course they couldn't use it here so it was eventually dismantled. Our settee used to be the coachman's seat!" She giggled, and her laugh sounded just like Bobby's. "Every time I think of that carriage, I imagine a bunch of spoiled rich ladies in their silk gowns riding to church in two-wheeled donkey carts just like all the farmers' wives!"

Lizzie wiped sweat from her eyes and blotted her face on her sleeve. The gentle ocean breeze coming up the hill from the beach wasn't enough to keep her cool out in the midday sun and tropical humidity. The borrowed, dirty clothing she was wearing was beginning to smell quite strongly of Jack. She suddenly missed being at sea where it was never uncomfortably hot as long as there was even the slightest breeze.

Behind the two-story stable were a busy chicken coop and pens containing several pigs and goats. A larger pen under a nearby tree held a shaggy donkey that brayed when it saw them. Bobby ran ahead to pet its nose and offered it some grass she pulled from between the tree's roots.

As they drew close to the pens, Allie wrinkled her nose. "Ugh! Girls, it's time to gather more pine straw! Thomas should be by any day to rake the pens out for us." Turning to Lizzie, she explained, "Thomas is a local lad who does odd jobs in return for meals."

They walked toward another cluster of small buildings some distance from the stable. Three of the buildings looked like tiny cottages. Bobby pointed to them. "Mama says those used to be servants' quarters! Can you imagine having _three_ servants? I can't!" Lizzie recalled a time not so long ago when she had thought that _only_ having three servants was uncivilized, but she said nothing.

Allie waved a hand at the little houses as she commented, "I'd love to be able to repair those and put them to use. But they need quite a bit of work. While the property was unoccupied, storms damaged many of the buildings." She shook her head sadly. "By the time I was finished patching up the main house, there was no money left to repair the little ones..." As they passed the cottages, Phillip emerged from one of them. His hair was full of cobwebs, and there was plaster dust on his clothing.

Allie stopped and stared in surprise. "Papa, what were you doing in there?"

"I just wanted to see for m'self how bad they are." He shook his head, indicating that the cottages were indeed in dire condition. "I thought perhaps there was somethin' I could fix for ye. I'll be out front in the garden if you need me, lass." He walked stiffly around the inn and out of sight, dusting off his shirt as he went.

Allie and the girls led Lizzie past the cottages. The last of the buildings on the property were a small smokehouse and a privy, easily distinguished by the smells emanating from within each of them. In the gaps and expanses between buildings, there were several more gardens, all filled with herbs and vegetable plants. There was no uncultivated ground left on the property other than the crushed stone and shell paths.

When they had finished touring the grounds, they returned to the kitchen. Allie turned to Lizzie with a big smile on her pretty face. "Since you just disembarked from a long voyage, I'd wager I know what would please you the most. Follow me!" She turned to Sam and Bobby. "You two please stay here and call me if anyone comes in!"

Allie led Lizzie out of the kitchen into the dining room and through the curtained doorway into yet another dining room which contained several more rectangular tables. The back portion of the room was partly taken up by a flight of stairs. A large window provided a splendid view of Allie's rose garden. Lizzie pointed out the window. "Your roses are lovely!"

Allie beamed with pride. "Thank you! My mum had a small rose garden when I was growing up. I always wanted to have one of my own someday. The roses were all overgrown and dying when I bought this place. I worked hard to save what I could, and some of the locals have given me starts of the roses from their own gardens. I think my garden is almost as nice as my mum's now! Papa sits out there often. I think the roses remind him of her. Now come along, your surprise awaits!" She led Lizzie up the stairs to the upper floor of the cottage.

* * *

Upstairs, a long narrow hallway divided the building into halves. There were two doors on each side of the hall. Allie led Lizzie down the hall, opened a door and let her enter the room first.

It was simple and charming, with an angled ceiling that tucked into the peaked roofline. The walls were white, with blue gingham curtains around the window in the tall end wall. A large bed with a coverlet of blue gingham stood against the inner wall. Under the window was a well-used wood chest of drawers with a small mirror atop it, and in one corner was a chamber pot. But Lizzie's eye was caught and held by the enormous metal and wood bathtub that dominated the room. She turned to Allie, hopeful but afraid to ask.

"I recognize that look! I know how I always felt when I came ashore after months at sea. I couldn't wait to scrub the grime off m'self! It's the same for you, am I right?" Allie smiled at Lizzie's delighted expression, recognizing a kindred spirit. "The best thing about this house is I don't have to boil and haul up water for baths! You can bathe as long as you like, as often as you like!" Allie went to the tub, turned a spigot and closed the drain with a heavy lead plug. As she worked the pump handle, steaming water poured out of the spout.

"When you're through with your bath, pull out the plug and the water runs right out down the side of the house. There's plenty of soap on the shelf above the tub, and there's a towel as well, a real one from Turkey, not like English bed sheet towels!" Lizzie couldn't help laughing.

Allie asked, "Do you have a change of clothing with you?"

Lizzie looked down at herself and plucked at the baggy pants she was wearing. "I don't even own any clothes. These are Jack's…"

Allie tsked quiet disapproval. "That won't do. I'm sure I've got something that'll fit you better than those! Let me fill this tub first." She pumped until the water reached a comfortable depth in the tub. Then she closed the spigot and left the room. She returned a few moments later with a small pile of garments over her arm. "Here you are! There's nothing fancy, but these will cover you until something can be done about getting you some clothing of your own!" She laid the clothes on the bed.

"The water is much too hot yet, unless you like to take truly scalding baths! So," Allie began, tilting her head to the side with a wicked smile, "how did how on earth did you get 'Captain Jack Sparrow', the most pursued bachelor pirate on the Spanish Main, to marry you?" She deepened her voice mockingly as she said his name. She plopped down on the bed, leaned back against the headboard and made herself comfortable. It was obvious that she wasn't leaving without an answer to satisfy her curiosity.

Lizzie laughed out loud as she sat down on the other edge of the bed. "Most pursued bachelor?"

Allie's eyes opened wide. "You didn't know? Jack's left a trail of broken hearts all across the Caribbean! It seems that some women are too eager to believe pretty words whispered in dark rooms. You might need to watch your back once word gets out that he's wed!"

Lizzie frowned. "Thank you for the warning. I had no idea! In truth, I'm still puzzling out how we ended up married. Just a week ago we were practically at each other's throats, arguing constantly. I was ready to jump ship in Hispanolia to get away from him!"

"But... you were… with him... though, weren't you? Why would he be cross with you?"

Of all the things that Lizzie had mentioned about their adventures, she was surprised that Allie asked about _that_. But there was pride in her voice as she answered. "If by 'with him' you mean was I the captain's wench, that answer is 'no'. I was part of the crew, just like the men. I wasn't with him, or with anyone else, in any sense of those words. Not until after the wedding." Lizzie held her head up proudly.

"That most likely perplexed Jack to no end!" Allie's laughter was unrestrained. "He's not used to dealin' with _ladies..._ It's not that he doesn't know how to behave like a gentleman. He just doesn't normally seek out the kind of company that would require him to do so!"

Lizzie didn't know what to say.

Allie ignored Lizzie's lack of response, and went on. "Are ye planning startin' a family soon? If ye are, I'll give you a bit of advice. Don't have babies on a ship. Washing diapers in salt water gives a baby a rash worse than anything you could imagine!"

"We haven't really talked about it..." Lizzie frowned. She started to realize that there were many things which hadn't been discussed.

"You've got the herbs then?"

"Herbs?"

"Oh dear... if you're not planning to start a family right away, you need to get some of the herbal tea that prevents conception. You have to drink a cup every single morning without fail, or else don't let him touch you! Didn't your mum tell you about it?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No. My mother died when I was six, and the parade of prim and proper nannies and governesses I had after her death certainly wouldn't have told me about anything like that. Where does one get these herbs?

"You can get it at the apothecary in Tortuga. He sells quite a lot of it to the whores, as you might imagine..."

"I don't know my way around the town. Do you think you could show me where the apothecary is?"

"I'll be able to get away tomorrow morning after breakfast, if you can manage to convince Jack to stay that long. Sam's old enough to leave in charge of the kitchen once the dinner meal's been started. It would be nice to get out for a bit!" Allie smiled in anticipation of an outing. "Maybe we can find you some clothes of your own. I'm sure you'd be glad to give Jack his hand-me-downs back, won't you?"

"Oh yes, and I desperately need some flannel as well, and soap, and two new pillows." Lizzie ticked off the items on her fingers as she spoke. "I left home in a hurry and only took the clothes on my back. Those have long since rotted away. All that's left that are mine are my boots and my hat. Everything else was begged or borrowed. In fact I owe one of the crew a pair of pants!"

Allie laughed again. "I can't help with the rest, but I make my own soap, so you needn't buy any. I'll send some of mine with you. Call it a wedding gift!"

"Thank you! That would be wonderful!" Lizzie savored the thought of having access to soap and privacy aboard the ship whenever she wanted. A bath every few weeks was enough for most people of the upper classes. The lower classes bathed even less often than that; many people believed that getting wet was unhealthy. But Lizzie had learned to prefer being clean after years of being constantly told that proper ladies don't get dirty. Life would certainly be a little more comfortable for her aboard the Pearl now!

* * *

While Lizzie daydreamed, Allie chattered away. "I'm still surprised that Jack's gotten married. But I'm very happy for you both. You must be really special! When I first met him, he was just twenty-two. He said he'd get married someday, but he wasn't ready to settle down. He wanted to see the whole world first. Then after Steven died he started sayin' he'd never wed. I had all but given up hope that he'd ever take a wife."

Lizzie shivered as she tried to imagine Jack's reaction to his brother's death. "I hope I'm not prying, but would you tell me what happened to Steven? If you don't want to..."

Allie waved a hand. "No, no, it's fine. You'd have to understand how they grew up for the story to make sense. He's told you about his family?

"No, he's never mentioned them..." Lizzie was becoming increasingly embarrassed that she knew so little about the man she'd married.

"Steven's and Jack's father was an EITC captain who turned pirate at some point after the boys were born. Their mum was from a very old, aristocratic Spanish family. How those two ended up together I'll never fathom."

"I had no idea that Jack was Spanish…." _She must have been the grand-mum that Sam mentioned! That would explain his coloring and those cheekbones..._

"You didn't know he had a brother either. Do you know _anything_ about your husband?" Allie teased.

"To be honest, not very much. It didn't seem to matter…" Lizzie was at a loss for words.

"Sometimes the heart learns everything it needs to learn without asking any questions."

Allie fell silent for a long moment. Sadness crept across her features as she studied her hands. Lizzie suspected that she had also fallen in love with a man without knowing much about him. After a moment, Allie spoke again. "It doesn't matter. In time you'll learn all that you need to know. Everything works out for the best, Lizzie. It always does."

* * *

A/N:

_Pine straw_—certain species of pine trees produce needles that are over twelve inches long and very soft, like long blades of grass. These wonderful smelling pine needles can be used as animal bedding, just as straw would be used. These types of pine trees grow best in warm southern climates, and one of the species is called Pinus Caribaea, or Caribbean Pine, so I'm certain they grow (or could be grown) on Isla Tortuga.

_Herbal contraception tea_—many herbalists claim that certain herbs, when taken either individually or combined with other herbs, can prevent pregnancy. And botanical history states that several hundred years ago there was a plant that was a reliable oral contraceptive. But it became extinct due to high demand and difficult growing requirements. So I took some historical and herbal liberties. You're on your own with this one. If your herbal tea doesn't work, Jack and Elizabeth are both fine baby names. ;')

_Bathtubs and indoor plumbing—_in the 18th century, rich people sometimes had bathtubs permanently installed in their homes. Commoners who were brave or foolish enough to risk taking a bath bathed in lakes or rivers, or in a portable tub. Indoor plumbing with running water and drains had been invented centuries earlier by the Romans. But it had faded from popularity and wasn't being used during this time period. I took some liberties with history here as well.


	75. Chapter 75 Lessons for Lace

_**CH 75 Lessons for Lace**_

Allie sat in silence, picking at a tiny spot on her apron. 

Lizzie waited for several minutes before asking softly, "Is there more?"

Allie's cheeks flushed pink. "I'm sorry! Sometimes I can be such a woolgatherer! As I started to say, Steven spoke of his mother often. He said there was nothing she couldn't do if she set her mind to it."

"What was her name?"

"It was very long and complicated. I never learned all of it, but her Christian name was Alejandra. She was a very devoted mother and Steven said she did everything she could to give them a good life. She felt it was important for them to be well educated. But she couldn't always afford to send them to school. So she made fine tatted lace that she traded for lessons from tutors. She started with languages. Steven and Jack learned Spanish from their mum, Latin in church—"

Lizzie cut in. "In church? But the Anglican Church doesn't use—"

Allie dismissed the comment with a wave of a hand. "Not Anglican, Catholic. She raised them up in the Catholic Church, as she had been," she explained. "Didn't he even tell you that much about himself?"

Lizzie shook her head. "I saw him cross himself once, but we never talked about it." Allie laughed. "Lizzie, from the sound of it, I don't believe you've ever talked to him at all! Was this an arranged marriage?"

Embarrassed, Lizzie struggled to think of a sharp retort. Instead, the ridiculous idea of an arranged marriage to _Captain_ Jack Sparrow made her giggle. "Drat, you've caught me! Of course it's every father's dream for his only daughter to wed a pirate. Father paid Jack a thousand pounds to marry me, and we never laid eyes on one another until he lifted my veil!" 

By the time Lizzie finished speaking, Allie was hiccuping with laughter and tears dripped off her cheeks. Allie's hilarity fueled Lizzie's giggles, and soon the two women were holding their sides and gasping for breath between peals of raucous laughter.

Several minutes later when they had recovered enough to breathe normally, Allie said simply, "Thank you."

Lizzie was puzzled. "For what?"

"I can't recall the last time I laughed that hard. I'd forgotten how good it feels." She took a deep breath. "Now where was I? Oh, yes, languages! Steven and Jack became quite skilled in several. They used to play a game that involved changing languages in the middle of a sentence to try to confuse each other. I couldn't understand a word, but it was quite amusing to listen to them!"

Lizzie stuck out her lower lip in a feigned pout. "I'm finding myself just the tiniest bit jealous that you know so much more about my husband than I do!"

Allie giggled. "You shouldn't bother yourself over it, Lizzie! I've known Jack for over thirteen years, but Steven told me all that I know about his past. Mostly what Jack's told me of himself involved grand and impossible ideas or magnificent and improbable adventures." 

She continued her narrative. "Speaking of grand ideas, their mum wanted her sons to be...," she tapped her chin with a forefinger, "oh what's the word—Renaissance men, that's it! — men who have studied a lot of subjects. They learned math and science and geography in school, and the 'gentlemanly arts' as she called them, outside of it."

"The gentlemanly arts?" Lizzie laughed. "Whatever for?"

Allie laughed with her. "She said that Steven would inherit the family estate some day, and that Jack would have a place in the Spanish royal court. She wanted them to learn all that might be required of proper gentlemen so that when the time came they'd be ready to accept their positions. Of course they didn't believe her. They thought it was just an excuse to make them behave. But they loved their mum, so they did as they were told." 

Lizzie tried to imagine Jack as a polite, obedient child. She found it impossible, and the image that came to her mind instead made her smile. 

"She arranged for Steven to learn swordsmanship, to take music lessons and even some dancing lessons; whatever she could trade for her lace. When he came home from a lesson, he had to teach what he had learned to Jack so she didn't have to pay for two. They didn't usually mind." She grinned. "Except for the dancing." 

Allie went on. "Her husband didn't send her money very often, so she bartered for nearly everything. She must have worked her fingers to the bone making lace every single night after she put the boys to bed. But she bargained so well that they never realized how poor their family really was until she passed away." 

Lizzie's thoughts strayed away from Allie's story. _I can't even imagine raising two children and running a household without a husband, and many nannies and servants. Yet both Jack's mother and Allie managed it alone with very little money… _

A question occurred to her. "If things were so bad for her and her children, why didn't her family help her?"

Allie's expression became solemn. "I don't know. But my guess is that she was simply too proud to ask." 

* * *

Lizzie had another question. "You haven't mentioned their father but once or twice. What about him?"

Allie cleared her throat. "He was a captain for the Company, as I said. He only came home once or twice a year. Each time he came home, Alejandra got with child. But she only bore two living children. She lost at least three between Steven and Jack, and I don't know how many more after Jack was born." Lizzie grew pale and clapped a hand to her mouth.

Allie nodded and looked down at her hands again. "I know just how you feel. Thank God that at least two of them lived." She looked up and smiled a sad smile. "Steven said she called Jack her miracle baby, and she let him do anything he wished. He always teased Jack about being spoiled." The smile disappeared as she continued speaking. "Each time she lost another baby, it weakened her a little more. She died when Steven was thirteen. Jack would have been just ten, I believe. Her husband didn't return again for several months after she'd passed on…" 

Lizzie felt a little queasy. _I knew that bearing children is dangerous, but this is worse than any childbirth tale the cook or the maids ever told!_ A wave of sympathy for the woman washed over her, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. 

"The poor dear!" Lizzie shivered and rubbed her arms. "What happened to the boys then?"

Allie sighed. "That was just the beginning of their bad luck. After she died, they managed to scrape together just enough money to bury her right and proper in the Catholic church yard. But they had to sell nearly every belonging in their house to do it. Very soon afterward, creditors took the house and booted them out. They took up with a pack of ragamuffins and orphans. You can imagine how they felt, going from being their mum's pets to street urchins in a matter of days! Steven said they were horrified to be forced to steal to survive. It went against everything they had ever been taught."

Lizzie's words to Jack came back to her. '_I've made a huge leap from the life I knew to this one, and it is quite difficult to abandon all of one's upbringing and one's moral beliefs in an instant.'� _She winced at the thought of how that must have sounded to Jack. _At least I had a choice..._"Oh yes, I can imagine..." she murmured.

"But they had no choice. So they applied themselves to learning their new skills as if they were more lessons, and managed to stay alive until their father came back. He found his wife dead and buried, the boys half-starved and dressed in rags, and debtor's prison lookin' for him. Soon's he took in what had happened, he packed the boys off to India to the home of an old Company acquaintance.

He sent a letter with Steven askin' the man to take them in. But his friend told them that he didn't want to be linked to a pirate in any way. So the boys weren't in India for a full day before the man gave 'em the boot. They found themselves living on the streets again, this time in a strange country." 

Lizzie's eyes opened wide. "Surely their father came back for them, didn't he?"

"After he sent them to India they never heard from him again."

Lizzie slapped the bed sharply. "How could a father do that to his own children? That's contemptible!" 

Allie's eyes narrowed for a moment. "I don't know, Lizzie, I just don't know. I've always felt sorry for their mum. I never met her, but I pray for her soul every day. Steven and Jack both told me she was beautiful, and smart, and sweet as the day is long. She could have had someone from the Spanish royal court, perhaps even a prince! How and why she married the likes of that one instead is a mystery. She never told her sons how she met their father."

* * *


	76. Chapter 76 It Cost Us Dearly

_**CH 76 It Cost Us Dearly**_

"She really was a member of the Spanish nobility?"

Allie nodded.

"What happened to them in India?" Lizzie asked.

"They picked pockets, stole food from market stalls and cut purse strings to survive until they learned to speak the language. Then they took on any work they could do for money or food. Steven was always one to find the bright side of everything. He said that at least in southern India they didn't have to worry about freezing to death during the winter." Allie flashed a quick smile before she went on with the story. "He looked after Jack for about two years, until Jack was of an age that they could sign onto a ship's crew together. Sailing came to both of 'em naturally, and they worked their way up to captains' posts in no time. Steven bought his own ship, the Polaris, from a retiring merchant captain. Jack sailed one of the Trade Company's fleet.

Now Steven, he was happy with the Company until Jack was branded a pirate by that Beckett fellow. I'm sure you must know that story already, all about the slaves and Beckett burning Jack's ship. After that, Beckett started harassing Steven simply because he was Jack's brother."

Lizzie gritted her teeth. "Beckett again! Ugh! God forgive me, but I'm glad that man is dead!"

"Is he really? How terribly sad…" Allie's voice was cold, and her smile was not pleasant.

* * *

"Steven left the Company and sought a letter of marque from the Crown. He was just starting out as a privateer when we met. He was ashore for several weeks while his ship was being refitted. We met every Sunday in the church yard after services until 'e went back to sea. He wrote to me often while 'e was away. When he came back to Portsmouth a year or so later, we set it up to run off together. The nuns wouldn't have approved our marryin' without my da's permission, and I didn't know when he'd be back in port so I could ask him. We didn't want to wait that long." She shook her head at the memory of their impatience.

"I assumed that after we were wed, Steven would put me up in a port town somewhere and come back when 'e could, like all sailors do. But 'e said that's why his mum died; his father was never there to take care of her when she needed him. Steven didn't want to be like him, so after we were married, he took me aboard his ship. I was young and foolish, and thought it a wonderful adventure. I learned to man the lines, and how to tie knots and how to use a sword and a gun, just like the rest of the crew. I fought in a few minor skirmishes, and I even climbed the rigging all the way to the top yard right up until the day before Sam was born!" She laughed at the horrified expression on Lizzie's face.

"But once we knew Sam was on the way I told Steven I thought it would be more sensible for me to go ashore. Steven kept tellin' me that if 'e took just one more big prize ship from the Spanish or the Dutch, just one more treasury ship, 'e'd be able to retire early. 'Just another year or two, darling', 'e'd say, 'and I don't want to be away from you that long.' I wanted to believe 'im, so I stayed aboard."

* * *

As Allie became more emotional, her original coarse port town accent began to slip back into her speech.

"Sam was born in the captain's cabin of the Polaris, and grew up on the ship. It weren't easy raisin' a baby aboard a privateer vessel, but Steven kept sayin' 'just one more year, one more prize'. Every time we overtook a ship and there was fightin', Sam and I hid below decks. I'd sing 'er songs to try to drown out the screaming and yelling. We were safe enough because the fightin' was always on the other ship…"

She pushed her hair behind her ears, and rubbed her face quickly with her palms. "Sam was six and Bobby was on the way when we were taken by surprise, attacked and boarded in the middle of the night. The Polaris lost 'er fore mast to chain shot and she was listin' to starboard. Steven was tryin' to put Sam and me into a longboat when 'e was shot in the back. I didn't see it coming because I was chasin' down Sam. She was frightened out of 'er wits and tried to run below deck. Thank God she didn't see 'im… I don't know how we got to shore after that. I don't recall any of it."

Allie appeared to be looking at the floor, but her eyes were unfocused as she relived that night in her mind. Her voice grew very quiet. "'e died tryin' to save us, which is 'ow 'e would have wanted to go. But if I'd only insisted that 'e put me ashore when Sam were a baby, 'e'd still be wif us now. We were both foolish, and it cost us dearly, 'im most of all." Allie's voice cracked on the last words, and then she wept quietly into her hands.

* * *

Lizzie studied the gingham on the bed, discomfited by Allie's tears. "Allie, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!" She sat quietly until Allie lowered her hands and wiped her eyes on her apron.

"No, I'm sorry, Lizzie. I didn't expect that to happen. It hasn't distressed me like that in a long, long time. I suppose I was reminded of how much I still miss him."

Lizzie murmured, "Steven must have been a wonderful man." She reached across the bed and patted Allie's shoulder in an awkward attempt to comfort her. Allie smiled gratefully and gripped her hand for a moment. "Aye, he was."

Something Allie had said stuck in Lizzie's mind. _She and Sam hid in the hold during battles. That's what Jack wanted me to do..._ She chose her words carefully when she finally spoke again. "Allie... how did Jack feel about you being aboard Steven's ship?"

Allie inhaled deeply and studied the wood grain in the floor boards for several moments before replying, "Jack thought it was a very bad idea from the beginning. I think that was the only time they ever had words between them. Steven said Jack didn't understand love, and Jack said Steven didn't understand common sense. Steven shouted that 'e didn't want to be like their father. Jack said 'e couldn't argue with that, and 'e let the matter drop. After that, 'e visited us aboard the Polaris as often as they could arrange a rendezvous. 'e'd eat my cooking, and dandle Sam on 'is knee and tell 'er tall tales." She laughed, remembering some of the unbelievable stories she'd heard Jack tell to her wide-eyed daughter.

"And after Sam fell asleep, 'e and Steven and Papa would swap yarns until the sun came up. We all looked forward to meeting up with the Wicked Wench, and later the Black Pearl. Jack even found us once or twice after the mutineers took 'is ship. We were a family, all of us. Everything was lovely. Steven sometimes wondered if Jack would have 'is own wife sail with 'im when 'e finally married."

After a long pause and a few sniffles, Allie took a deep breath. "Then Steven died and everything changed."

* * *

She got up and walked over to the tub. Dipping her hand in the water, she turned to Lizzie. "It's cooled off a bit. You'd best get in before it gets too cold and you have to start all over. I need to start supper, so I'll leave you to your privacy. Enjoy your bath!" She smiled and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Lizzie laid her sword and belt on the bed, and pulled off her boots. She dropped her stinking clothes on a nearby chair and stepped into the tub. The water was perfect, not quite hot enough to sting. She sighed as she leaned back to stretch out in the steaming water. _I was beginning to think that I'd never see a hot bath again. _Her thoughts turned to the moonlit swim she had taken with Jack on their wedding night. She felt herself blush at the memories, and then she smiled a small, knowing smile. _But the other alternatives aren't so bad either... I wonder where Jack is right now. I do miss him so!_

* * *

A/N:

_Yarn _— a long story of adventure or incredible happenings. Like this one. ;')

Re: Jack and the slaves: I'm sure most of you have heard this bit of Jack's backstory before. Wikipedia states: "On the website for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, it is explained that Sparrow once worked for the East India Trading Company and captained the Wicked Wench. When he refused to transport slaves, he was branded a pirate and his ship was ordered sunk by Lord Cutler Beckett, a company agent. Sparrow then bargained with Davy Jones to raise his ship, which he rechristened the Black Pearl."


	77. Chapter 77 Sticky Business

_Ch 77 Sticky Business_

Before Jack could move, strong hands grabbed his arms from behind and pinned them to his sides. The same gravelly voice said, "Got'im, Captain! 'E ain't getting' away from me!" The hands gripped his upper arms and hoisted him off the ground. Jack winced in pain as he risked a quick glance down. His feet dangled several inches above the cobblestones, and the hands holding onto him were much larger than hands ought to be. He swallowed hard. "Oh, bugger..."

Another voice spoke. This one sounded nasal and muffled, as if the speaker had a head cold. "Turn around tho I can thee 'im!" Jack's captor dutifully shuffled in a half circle to face the other man. Jack remained suspended by his arms. They were starting to go numb.

A thick finger poked Jack in the chest. "So, tell me, Jack Thparrow, where did yer crew come acroth all the gold they've been thlingin' around Tortuga?" A fine spray of spittle spattered Jack's face. Jack's grimace might have expressed his disgust at either the spit or the sight before him.

One side of the spit spraying speaker's mostly toothless mouth sagged open, the result of a long deep scar that traversed it on the way from his cheek to the point of his chin. Too many violent encounters with objects harder than itself had caused the nose to lie flat and limp. It flopped from side to side as his head moved, forcing its owner to breathe through his mouth. A sparse, bristly mustache sprouted above his drooping lip and waggled in the air as he spoke. One scarred hand brandished a large knife near Jack's face; the other continued poking Jack's chest every few seconds. Several other men clustered behind him clutching knives or guns.

"It's _Captain,_ Captain Jack..." Jack sighed peevishly as he unsuccessfully attempted to squirm out of range of the poking finger and the spit shower. "Manatee Marlowe. How unlovely to see you again. I'm quite fine, thank you so much for asking."

"It'th Captain Manatee--I mean Captain Marlowe now!" The finger poked repeatedly, emphasizing every word.

"Captain, is it? Got a promotion? What happened to the last captain of the _Tontos_?"

"Cap'n Floyd keelhauled 'im thelf tryin' to catch a dolphin with a rope... now about that gold. Where'd ye get it?"

Jack frowned briefly, and then ducked his chin in an attempt to hide the uncontrollable smirk that crossed his face as he realized what the man had just asked him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh, yeah? Let me be the one to dethide that." More spit sprayed over Jack's face as the finger jabbed his chest harder, causing him to wince.

"If you insist... We sailed the Pearl right through the jungles of South America. During our voyage, we ran across a Spanish galleon, and plundered her, and that's where we got the gold."

"That'th a whole lot of bilge yer tryin' to hand me there! Now gimme the truth, or I'll cut yer pretty fathe!"

Jack's eyes crossed as he focused on Marlowe's knife blade, which was dangerously close to his nose. He pulled his head back as far as he could to widen the gap between the sharp object and himself. "That _is_ the truth! Why does nobody ever believe me?"

Marlowe grumbled in annoyance. "If ye don't want to tell me where ye got the gold, jutht thay tho, and give me an excuthe to kill ye right now."

Jack squinted at him. "I didn't want to tell you, but you asked so nicely that I simply couldn't refuse. So I told you the truth, and now you don't believe me. Your dubiety is not _my_ concern." He would have shrugged, but the hands gripping his arms prevented it.

Marlowe's floppy face furrowed. "What's double-you tee? 'that thpell thomethin'?" He glanced over his shoulder at his crew, who muttered amongst themselves and shook their heads at each other. He turned back to Jack. "Never mind whatever it ith, I'll find out thooner or later. You'll get nuttin' by me!"

"Marlowe, this goes against my better judgment, but let me ask _you_ a question. Why do you care where we got the treasure? One of the first things every pirate learns is 'Take what ye can, give nothing back', and the second is 'if ye can't carry it, bury it'. What makes you think that we left any treasure behind where we found it?"

Marlowe looked as if he'd been hit in the stomach. "I jutht figgered maybe..." The crew behind Marlowe began murmuring in low, surprised tones.

"Ah, you see? That's what happens when you try to think too much!" Jack smiled at the hideous man. "Now that we've both answered each other's questions, I'll be off! Places to see, people to do and all that..." He weakly waved a hand and attempted to turn to leave, but the man holding him off the ground did not release him. Marlowe waved the knife in his face again.

"You may thtill be lyin' to me, Thparrow. Tho for now I'll thettle for takin' yer own thare of yer treathure." He gestured to two of his men to go through Jack's pockets. They found nothing. Marlowe's face reddened in anger. "Where ith it?" he bellowed.

"We've been ashore half a day already. Why don't you go ask the whores and the pub keepers where it is? I'm sure they've got it all by now! Go ahead, I'll wait here." Jack blinked innocently.

Marlowe scowled. The scowl turned to a smile as a thought sluggishly crawled across his mind. It must have tickled. He slapped Jack's chest with the palm of his hand. "Aye, I think we'll do jutht that! You thtay right here! We'll be back! Leave 'im go, Pinky!"

Marlowe turned away, gesturing to his men to follow him . The huge man abruptly dropped Jack. Unable to move his benumbed arms fast enough to catch his balance, Jack fell backwards and sat down hard on the cobblestones. The crew trailed after their captain around the corner into the crowded town square.

When they were out of sight, Jack sighed and rubbed his bruised chest and upper arms.

"The third thing a _smart_ pirate learns is to ask the _right_ questions. Marlowe and his crew certainly are the antithesis of perspicacious. Sharp as a bubble..." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose in mock agony as he spoke to himself. "I'm amazed that they can even get their ship out of the harbor without sinking it. Hmm...now that I think of it, I've never seen the _Nave de Tontos_ leave the harbor..." He got to his feet and brushed the Tortuga dust off his pants with both hands. Then he pulled a scarf out of his pocket and vigorously wiped the spit off of his face.

He shook one foot and was rewarded with faint jingling tones. He smiled at the sound of gold and silver coins clinking gently in the toe of his boot. Turning on his heel, he once again faced the town square. He hadn't taken two steps in that direction before a heavy hand once again clapped him on the shoulder. "It's about time ye came out o'hidin'!"

* * *

Lizzie lathered, scrubbed, and washed until the water was gray despite her recent bath in the ocean. As she bathed, she pondered the things Allie had told her. _Was Jack's mother too proud to ask for help from her family? Or did her family disown her when she married beneath her station? Why has Jack never mentioned Steven? And what do those swords have to do with any of this?_

"Oh, this is all a very sticky business..." Lizzie murmured to herself. She stood up and pulled the drain plug. Water gurgled noisily out of the tub as she reached for the towel. "My own father might be dead. I have no other relatives. Allie and the girls have just become my new family, but Jack's not comfortable around them. I don't want Jack to become estranged from them, but I don't know what I can do!"

After she dried herself on the deliciously soft and fluffy towel, Lizzie went through the clothing Allie had left for her. There was a shirt, a pair of trousers, and a simple gray homespun dress. All were well-worn but clean.

A knock on the door was accompanied by Allie calling, "I heard the water running out. Are you dressed?"

"Just a moment!" Lizzie quickly donned the shirt and pants, reveling in the feeling of clean clothing on clean skin. When she was fully dressed except for her boots, she opened the door. Pleasant cooking aromas followed Allie into the room.

"I half expected I'd find you wearing the dress!" Allie sat down on the bed again.

Lizzie shook her head. "A few months ago, perhaps, but I've become more comfortable in trousers of late." She sat on the bed and pulled on her boots.

Allie folded the dress and laid it on her lap. "Myself, I'd prefer to wear skirts. But with all I have to do around here, it's just easier to wear trousers. The locals think I'm daft, but if they had to climb a ladder to fix a roof while wearing skirts, I'm sure they'd feel different about it! I won't let the girls dress this way though. I don't mind if people think I'm a tad eccentric. But I've told the girls that if they expect to make good marriages someday, they have to look like ladies."

Lizzie noticed a wooden comb lying on the dresser. She picked it up and carefully combed her wet hair. When she was satisfied that all the tangles were combed out, she put the comb back, placed her hat on her head and examined her reflection in the small mirror. Allie's shirt and pants fit Lizzie like they'd been made just for her. Pleased with what she saw, she turned away from the mirror. Allie was running her fingers over the red cord and the sword knot on the hilt of the Damascus sword which still lay in its sheath on the bed.

"Jack did that because the leather grip had rotted."

Allie nodded quiet approval. "It's lovely. Steven would approve." Lizzie lifted the sword and unsheathed it for Allie. She took it cautiously, hefted it, and turned it from side to side. Sunlight reflected off of the highly polished blade onto the ceiling and walls.

"It's even more beautiful than I recall," she said quietly as she examined the familiar engraving.

Allie ran her fingers down the blade, feeling all the nicks in the edges. "Jack's sword put these here when 'e and Steven first got them." She smiled at the memory. "They wanted to see if any one of the Damascus swords was stronger than the others. They sparred for most of an entire day, each one trying each sword. As I recall, Jack's sword got a few nicks during that skirmish too, as did the fourth one. I wouldn't let'em use mine, so it's the only one that's still perfect. For all I know, it could cut through the other three!" Her smile widened at the ridiculous thought.

"I learned firsthand that this sword can cut through Toledo steel," Lizzie commented. "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it with anything but another Damascus in my hand!" She donned Jack's brocade vest and buckled the heavy belt over it. Allie returned the sword, and it made a quiet ringing sound as Lizzie sheathed it.

* * *

A/N: _"the antithesis of perspicacious" – _Jack-speak for "the opposite of smart"


	78. Chapter 78 Trepidations and Reservations

_**Ch 78 Trepidations and Reservations**_

Jack didn't wait for the owner of the new hand to identify himself. He seized the wrist above it with one hand while he reached for his knife with the other. He twisted the arm as he spun around to face the new threat. He growled, "Marlowe told you to leave me go, Pinky!"

There was no throat waiting for his knife. The arm that Jack was gripping sagged toward the ground. It was attached to Gibbs, who was on his knees, white-faced.

"Cap'n! It's just me! I'm not Pinky!"

Jack changed his grip on Gibbs' arm from defense to assistance and helped him to his feet. "Just a case of mistaken identity, Mister Gibbs; one hand on a shoulder feels much like another. Were you looking for me for any particular reason?"

"Oh, aye! I've been waitin' for ye to turn up so I could celebrate yer nuptials with ye!" From the look and smell of him, he'd been celebrating Jack's nuptials since the minute he'd stepped off the Pearl. He took hold of Jack's elbow and attempted to turn him toward the center of the square. Jack pointed in the direction of the dock and started to speak, but Gibbs interrupted him. "Aw, ye've got ta come with me, Jack! There's plenty o'folks who don't believe yer really married! You should hear what they're sayin! Come tell'em yerself, and have a drink while yer at it. I'll buy the first round!"

Jack took a step backward, one hand spread against his chest, eyes and mouth opened wide. "Joshamee Gibbs has offered to buy the first round? Someone make a note! This should be documented as an historic occasion, a never before seen first in the annals of piracy! Of course I'll accept your generous offer, Mister Gibbs! How could I possibly refuse?" He laughed and slapped Gibbs on the back. Throwing an arm across Jack's shoulders, Gibbs steered him toward their favorite pub, the Faithful Bride.

* * *

Allie and Lizzie returned to the kitchen. The afternoon passed pleasantly as the two women chatted like schoolgirls while they prepared the evening meal. Allie kept Lizzie laughing with stories about Jack and things that had happened years earlier. Sam and Bobby hung on her every word. It was clear to Lizzie that both girls adored their uncle despite his eccentricities.

As Lizzie inexpertly diced vegetables, she began to worry about Jack. _It's nearly time for supper. I thought he would have come back by now. I do hope he's alright! He was carrying a lot of valuables when he left..._ She tried to keep her worries at bay by telling herself that he would surely turn up soon.

* * *

Jack had not returned by the time supper was served. Lizzie's increasing unease curbed her appetite; she picked at her meal for several minutes before making herself eat a few bites. When everyone was finished, the girls cleared the table. Lizzie got up and began to pace anxiously around the dining room.

Allie asked quietly, "Lizzie, what is it?" Her expression showed that she knew the answer before she asked.

"Where could he be? I'm quite worried!" She stopped pacing and seated herself sideways on the bench nearest the window. Hugging her knees to her chest, she stared out over the back of the bench at the garden path, silently willing Jack to appear. Allie got up from the table and came to stand next to her. The path was empty except for a few scattered rose petals and a small parrot scratching amongst the tiny seashells.

Allie squeezed Lizzie's shoulder briefly before turning away.

Outside, the setting sun behind the trees cast deep shadows across the garden. Allie lit two lanterns which hung on the walls. The two tiny flames reflected in the mirror behind the bar, dimly illuminating the entire room. She lit another candle that had already dripped much of its wax down the sides of an empty bottle on the table. Everyone else remained at the table talking, but Lizzie stayed at the window staring out into the gathering darkness.

* * *

"Wait, Gibbs, I need to talk to you alone first," Jack said as he steered Gibbs toward a much smaller pub. Gibbs eyed Jack warily but allowed himself to be turned from his intended course.

As soon as they stepped into the shadowy pub, several whores flocked around them like vultures. "Oooh, it's that Jack Sparrow!" crowed one of them in a scratchy voice.

"'Ay, I 'eard you got married! What're you doin' in here then? Why ain't ye home with the little wifey?" teased another one. Her square lower jaw protruded nearly an inch past her upper teeth.

Jack replied, "I'm endeavoring to confabulate covertly with my associate here. So why don't you ladies go solicit the other patrons?" The whores looked around, confused. Jack glanced around the pub. He and Gibbs were the only customers in the place. Jack tried again. "It's a lovely day and there's no business for you in here. Why don't you all go promenade around the square and leave us in peace? Go on now!" He waved them toward the door. They fussed and pouted, but finally left, convinced that there was no money to be made from these two.

The square-jawed woman dropped back and let the others leave first. As the last one exited, she tugged on her dangerously low-cut dress. The bodice of the dress slid past the point of no return, exposing her breasts. Gibbs stared. Jack looked at the ceiling. The woman winked at Gibbs and said, "I'll be back in a trice, dearie!" She yanked the front of her dress back into place and followed her friends out the door.

Jack snorted in disgust. "Gibbs, you can't be that desperate! She looks like a bulldog!"

Gibbs laughed. "It weren't 'er face I was lookin' at!" He called to a man behind the bar for two mugs of rum.

When they were seated at a table with drinks in front of them, Gibbs asked, "So what is it that you need to talk to me about?"

Jack sighed, took a drink of his rum and wrinkled his nose at the taste. "This is grog, not rum, and bad grog at that! It does _not_ count as the first round!" He took another drink, lowered the mug and stared into it. His voice was quiet and strained. "It's a long story..."

Before he could speak further, Gibbs began to laugh. "Ah, Cap'n, I can see it all in yer face, plain as day! Don't do what yer thinkin', or ye'll have half the crew after ye to avenge 'er! The other half'll be collectin' bets!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up to the edge of his scarf. "How did you...?"

Gibbs laughed harder. "Jack, every man has second thoughts after he's married! 'Is she really the right one?' 'Should I have waited for someone else?' 'Should I run away and pretend it never happened?'"

"Where did _you_ learn to be an expert on all things connubial?"

"Three o'my brothers wed before me, two wed after me. We all talked each other out runnin' off after the first week or so. Well, except for Joachim; none of us tried to stop 'im from leavin'…_her_." Gibbs made a sour face and shook his head. "Havin' misgivings right after ye wed is perfectly normal, Jack! If they're not gone in a year, _then_ ye can start to worry!"

Jack leaned an elbow on the table and buried his forehead in his hand. "It's more complicated than that, Gibbs."

Gibbs sat up straight and leaned forward, suddenly serious. "Bein' married is always complicated, Jack. That's why I volunteered to join the Navy, and y'know only desperate men volunteer for that! It was easier being wedded to Mary when I only saw her every several months. But your situation _is_ a little different. As I see it, if the lass stays aboard the ship, after a time you might start thinkin' to take up farming and let her come home to you every few months instead!" He burst into uncontrollable laughter at the thought of Jack as a farmer, and was unable to speak for some time.

"I feel so much better for having unburdened myself..." Jack murmured sarcastically. He frowned as he drank the sour, watered-down rum and waited for Gibbs to recover.

"It seems," he said when Gibbs had stopped pounding on the table and was finally able to breathe without giggling, "that I have some deliberating and ratiocinating to do. I think a game of cards with some of the lads over at the Bride is in order!"

"That sounds like an admirable plan, Jack! You always lose when you're troubled, um, I mean it sounds fine to me!" They both tossed back the last of their wretched drinks and headed out the door in the direction of the Faithful Bride.

"You're still buying the first round, Gibbs!"

* * *

When it was fully dark outside, Allie sent the girls to bed. They hugged their mother and grandfather. Bobby approached Lizzie and threw her arms around her aunt's neck, embracing her tightly. When Bobby finally stepped back, Sam gave Lizzie a more reserved hug. "Good night, Aunt Lizzie!" She put a hand on Bobby's shoulder and gently steered her out of the room.

As she accompanied Sam down the hall, Bobby called over her shoulder, "G'night, Aunt Lizzie! I'm so glad Uncle Jack brought you! I hope you're still here tomorrow so we can explore the stable together! If you're not, we can do it the next time you come!"

"She's never going to let you forget what you said," Allie murmured with a smile. But Lizzie said nothing. Instead, she peered out into the night. After taking one last hard look out the window, she resumed pacing around the room.

Allie spoke again. "Lizzie, you really should sit down and try to calm yourself. I'm sure Jack will be back soon. He wouldn't leave you behind and sail away without you!" Lizzie thought, '_I wish that was what I was worried about!' _She gave Allie a weak smile, but continued pacing back and forth between the window and the door.

An uncomfortable half hour later Jack had still not returned. Lizzie was beside herself with worry. _I should never have let him go into town alone. He might have been robbed and left in an alley hours ago..._ She stopped in front of the door and announced, "I'm going to go look for him." At once, both Allie and Phillip firmly pointed out that a woman should not even consider going into Tortuga at night alone.

Lizzie sighed heavily. "You're right. But I'm too worried to sit still. There's no sense in my keeping everyone else upset. I'm going to go down to the beach to do my worrying where I won't be a bother."

"I understand. Just don't do anything foolish, do you hear me? It's not safe for you to go into town alone!" Allie's expression was more serious than Lizzie had ever seen it. "We get up quite early, so we'll be turning in shortly. When you come in, take the room where you had your bath today. It has the best bed." She got up and walked over to Lizzie. "If Jack does spirit you away before morning, please write to us often, won't you?!" She held out her arms offering a hug which Lizzie gratefully accepted.

"Of course I will! I already feel like I've known you and the girls forever. I'm going to miss you all terribly!"

"I'll put that wedding gift I promised you on a table near the door, just in case I don't get to say goodbye."

"That's very sweet of you. Thank you for everything, Allie." Lizzie hugged Allie once more. "Goodnight to both of you."

Allie watched sympathetically as Lizzie left the inn. Turning to her father, she remarked, "The poor dear. She really doesn't know Jack very well yet, does she?"

Phillip chuckled. "I pity them both. I don't think Jack realizes exactly what 'e's got 'imself into!"

Allie smiled. "Are you saying he didn't look before he leapt?"

"Oh, 'e looked long and 'ard alright. But I don't think 'e considered anything beyond the landing!"

* * *


	79. Chapter 79 Lost and Found

_CH 79 Lost and Found_

Lizzie felt her way down the stone steps in the shadowy darkness. She crossed the cart track and pushed through the underbrush to the boulder-covered beach. An unladylike curse rang out as she stubbed her toes on a rock. A brisk seaward breeze whipped her hair sharply across her face. Her eyes began to water in response to the sting of the lashing hair.

Her vision blurred, Lizzie abandoned her attempt to reach the water's edge. She looked about for somewhere to sit. A large flat stone nearby was just the right height. The boulder's smooth surface, still warm from the afternoon sun, beckoned her to lie back and look up at the night sky.

The sky was clear and the moon, only three days past full, was beginning to wane. The familiar constellations that had been her night time companions for the past few months shone brightly in the black sky. But the stars weren't comforting tonight. Lonely and worried, nothing could take Lizzie's mind off of Jack. _I pray that he's alright! But if he is, where IS he? What could he be doing? _

Her thoughts turned to the whorehouses of Tortuga, and her heart sank. She choked back a sob. _No…he wouldn't, would he? He must be lying injured somewhere._ She stood up, wiped her eyes with her sleeves and began carefully picking her way back to the road. _That's it._ _I'm going into town to look for him.  
_

She reached the road and turned toward the docks. As she brushed her hair out of her face, she remembered Allie's and Phillip's warnings. _I've been in Tortuga at night before. __I can disguise myself again; it worked the last time! _ She stopped long enough to twist her hair up and shove it under her hat. Then she pulled the collar of her shirt tighter around her throat. Hoping that she had altered her appearance enough to pass for a boy in dim light, she hurried down the cart road toward the town. The tree-shaded road was dark and gloomy by night, and she stumbled over rocks and wheel ruts until she reached the docks.

She turned at the short cobblestone street that led uphill from the docks to the town square. The unforgettable stench of Tortuga hung in the air—a mixture of human and animal waste, garbage, wood smoke, vomit, and tawdry perfumes. At the juncture of the cart road and the cobblestone street, it mingled with the myriad of aromas that emanated from the ships at the docks; tar, fish entrails and bilge water predominated there. The result was almost overwhelming.

Lizzie hid in a shadow against a building with her hand over her nose and tried not to gag as she peered at the plaza, hoping to spot Jack.

* * *

Judging by the large number of lighted windows, it appeared to Lizzie that most of the buildings that faced the square were public houses or inns. Only businesses with enough customers to warrant the expense of candles or lantern oil would be lit at night. The brighter windows cast pools of dim light on portions of the square, briefly illuminating whatever passed in front of them.

Drunken men stumbled along clinging to gaudily dressed women. Groups of boisterous pirates entered and exited the many buildings that lined the square. Someone at the far end of the square fired a pistol into the air and shouted incoherently at random intervals. Even though it was still early in the evening by pirate standards, several men were already passed out on the cobblestone street. But Jack was not among the people Lizzie saw. _He's not in the square. He could be in a pub... or in an alley. There are so many of both—where should I start? I'll have to check them all!_

Lizzie headed into the square and turned down the first alley she encountered. Three steps in she stopped, aghast. A woman was backed up against a wall with her skirts lifted to service her enthusiastic customer. Shocked and embarrassed, Lizzie reversed direction and fled. The stink of urine and feces followed her out into the square. She moved on, shivering and blushing.

She entered another alley, and nearly stumbled over a woman who was on her knees before a man. Lizzie hurried out, apologizing under her breath. Neither of them noticed her. She frowned as she considered what she'd seen. After a moment to steady her nerves, she decided to brave one more alley. As she entered, a woman standing in the shadows said "Bart? I've been waitin' for ye to come back! Did ye bring your money this time? I'm ready for ye, dearling!" Lizzie mumbled "Sorry, wrong alley," in her deepest voice as she turned around and rushed back to the relative safety of the square.

She shuddered as she moved furtively toward the nearest pub. Its hanging sign read "Ass on Fire"; it displayed a comical picture of a startled looking donkey whose tail was aflame. She pulled her hat down to cover more of her forehead, and turned up the collar of her shirt in a futile attempt to hide her face. Stepping nervously through the door, she slunk into a dark corner and surveyed the crowd. She hoped to spot Jack or at least find someone from the Pearl's crew who might know where he was. But she saw no familiar faces. She slipped out of the pub unnoticed.

Emboldened by the success of getting in and out unobserved, she approached the next pub, whose badly hand-lettered sign read "The Inn Next Door Burnt Down".

Once again she slipped inside and looked around, but she didn't see anyone she knew. It was the same at the next tavern, "The Whore and Bishop", and again at the "Nobody Inn".

As Lizzie approached the "Faithful Bride", the name reminded her that this was the pub where she'd broken a bottle over James Norrington's head so long ago. It appeared to be the largest and busiest pub in town. The windows on all three floors shone brightly. Lizzie could hear the sounds of musicians trying to play loud enough to be heard over the din of many voices laughing and shouting inside. She stepped through the open door and peered cautiously around the large, smoky room, seeking a hiding place with a good view. What she saw made her forget all about trying to be inconspicuous. She stopped squarely in the doorway and stared openly at the scene before her.

* * *

Directly across the room from the door, Jack sat tilted back on two legs of his chair with his boots propped up on the corner of the table. His attention was fully focused on the hand of cards he held. Gibbs and several other men unfamiliar to Lizzie sat around the gaming table with him. Two brightly garbed women, one blonde and the other red-headed, draped themselves over Jack's shoulders and spoke into his ears. As Lizzie stared, every so often he would absentmindedly brush a hand toward them, casually waving them off like pesky flies. As soon as his hand stopped moving, the women would immediately settle on him again.

A third woman, a shabbily dressed brunette, slipped easily through the crowded room as she rushed up to Jack. She pushed the hand holding the cards aside and dropped into his lap. Her actions caused his feet to slide off the table and he threw himself forward to avoid tipping over backward in the chair. As he did so, the woman grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

"In or out lad, yer blockin' the way!" A loud voice behind Lizzie made her jump as strong hands seized her shoulders and shoved her roughly aside. She staggered sideways and knocked a bottle off a table. It shattered on the floor with a loud crash. The drunken owner of the newly deceased bottle leapt to his feet screaming curses. He took a wild punch at Lizzie which only succeeded in swatting her hat off her head. The unchecked momentum of the swing toppled him onto the next table. It overturned, breaking more bottles and glasses. The occupants of that table all jumped up and piled onto him at once, hitting and kicking. Within seconds the whole place was in an uproar.

Lizzie caught up the hat and shoved it back upon her head, but her freed hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She glanced up at Jack. He was on his feet and looking right at her. Lizzie turned around and darted out the door.

* * *

She hit the street running, and headed for the docks, pushing people out of her way as she ran. She didn't stop until she was far enough down the cart road that she could no longer hear the sounds of the town. She clutched a tree trunk and leaned her forehead against it, waiting for her pounding heart and ragged breathing to slow to normal. Her thoughts raced in circles around what she'd seen, unable to settle on any explanation that made sense.

A hand seized her shoulder, and she gasped in surprise. She reached for her sword as she spun around. Another hand seized her arm to stop her from drawing the weapon.

"Hold up there, Lizzie." Lizzie sighed with relief as she recognized Jack's voice. Her body relaxed, and she took her hand off of the pommel of the sword. When she did so, Jack released her.

"I'd think that if one is trying to observe someone while remaining unobserved oneself, it would go better if one avoided starting pub fights. So that obviously couldn't be what you were doing, unless you actually were, in which case you managed it quite poorly. Did you really come all the way to town just to start a set-to, or were you actually spying on me?"

"No, Jack, no! I thought you would be back hours ago! I've been worried about you all afternoon! I just wanted to find you and make sure you were alright!"

"You were… _worried_… about me?" Jack sounded amused.

"Yes! Yes, of course I was! You were carrying a lot of valuables when you left. When you didn't return by supper, I began to fear that you'd been robbed and left for dead. I couldn't stand not knowing, so I came looking for you." Lizzie was flooded with happiness that he was, in fact, not lying dead in an alley.

But less pleasant emotions soon ran up on the heels of her joy. "I've been fretting about you all day, and when I finally found you, you were in a tavern with a strumpet in your lap and two more on your arm. I feel foolish for worrying about you now. You obviously weren't thinking about me while you were on your 'ship's business'!"

"Lizzie…" Jack began carefully, "those women weren't… I wasn't… Lizzie, love, in Tortuga, every pub or inn that has a bed in it is a whorehouse, save for Allie's. If a man fancies havin' a drink with his mates in a public house, the whores settle on him like mosquitos, whether he wants 'em around or otherwise.

"You didn't seem to mind having those women all over you just now… you reek of their perfume! And I saw you kiss one of them!"

Jack shrugged and held out his hands in a 'what can I do' gesture. "Ah, the first two would be Scarlet and Giselle. We've... um... known each other for years. They're a tad possessive of their long time, ah, how should I say it... clients. They keep insisting that you're just a figment. They've been drapin' themselves around my neck all night. The third would be Sadie. And I didn't kiss her; _she_ kissed _me_. She's got some fanciful ideas in her head, which is why she sailed into my lap uninvited. I dumped 'er on the floor just now when you started that little row." She heard him laugh quietly.

"They think I'm a figment of your imagination? Well, let's go show them that I'm not!" She grabbed his hand and started back toward the Faithful Bride.

"No!" The tone of his voice startled her as he pulled his hand away from her.

Lizzie stopped and spun to face him, tears stinging her eyes.

"Why not? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"It's not that, Lizzie…"

"What, then? Why won't you take me back there with you? Is there someone you don't want _me_ to meet?"

"No! It's nothing like that!" Jack paused to collect himself. "Firstly, if I take you back in there right now, that'll only add fuel to the fire of the currently ongoing fracas. Escorting you back into a pub brawl which you started, however unintentionally, ranks very low on my list of 'things to do with Lizzie'. Secondly, I've got things to work out in m'head. I do my best thinking while I'm playing cards. Occupies those nagging little voices, savvy? So I was nicely settled into a game of Loo, which for once I was winning! I was deep in contemplation of my circumstances when your appearance and nigh unto immediate upheaval of the otherwise relatively peaceful atmosphere interrupted me. I'd like to continue my game and my contemplations, assuming of course that the pub isn't on fire when I get back."

"Contemplating your circumstances? What does that mean?"

"I shall endeavor to repeat it again. I've got things to work out in my head."

"What things? Maybe I can help, Jack! Why don't you come back to the inn with me? I've missed you all afternoon. It's too late to go back to the Pearl tonight, and Allie's given us a lovely room!" Smiling, she took his hand again and turned toward the inn.

"Love, we're going to be together day and night for months at a time when we leave port. You'll be sick of seein' my face and you'll be praying for shore leave to get some time away from me. You should welcome the chance to be rid of me now while you can."

Lizzie's smile was replaced with a look of disbelief. "I hardly think so, Jack! If you recall, we were wed only two days ago. I _want_ to be with you! I don't expect to ever become tired of seeing you! And even if you are right, then why are you sitting with Mister Gibbs, with whom you've been sailing for nearly four months?"

"Um… we were celebratin' my nuptials, actually."

Lizzie dropped his hand and took a step back. "YOUR nuptials? Didn't _we_ get married, _both_ of us, the _two_ of us? It wasn't _just_ you!"

"True enough, but you weren't there, so we could only celebrate _my_ nuptials." Jack countered lamely.

"Jack… let me try to understand. You went off alone and gave me no idea of when you'd be back, you're celebrating your wedding without me, and you'd rather play cards with your shipmate than spend time with me. Am I simply a shipboard convenience to be ignored while you're ashore?" She could feel her face growing hotter as her anger built. "Did you propose to me simply because you knew I wouldn't ever give in and become the captain's wench?" Lizzie clenched her fists and felt her nails digging into the calluses on her palms.

"Lizzie! No…" He stopped. Lizzie waited. She could tell that Jack was looking down at the ground but she could not see his expression. Finally he sighed. "No, that's not why I proposed to you." Lizzie waited again, but Jack did not elaborate further.

"And I assume you're not going to tell me what circumstances you're contemplating either..."

Jack coughed. "I... I may have made several mistakes of sizable proportions, and I need to consider how to correct them."

Lizzie drew a sharp breath and backed away from him. "I'm going back to the inn, Jack. When you're finished with your celebration and your contemplation, come and get me. We'll go back to the Pearl and I'll build a bed under those steps so I won't be so uncomfortable out there. I don't understand any of this, and I don't understand you. Whoever said 'Married in haste, we may repent at leisure' certainly had the right of it! You've wed me for reasons only you comprehend, so now I'm bound to you. But that doesn't mean I have to share your bed."

Even in the deep shadows, Lizzie could see the whites of Jack's eyes as he heard her words.

"Lizzie! Wait!" What she could not see in the shadows were his hands reaching out to her.

"It's alright, Jack. You just toddle on back to your card game and your friends... and the strumpets. I'll return to the inn and wait for you like a good wife." She turned her back on him. "Goodnight, Jack." She walked into the darkness and out of his sight.

* * *

A/N:

'Married in haste, we may repent at leisure' means exactly that—rush into a marriage, and you will have lots of time to regret it afterward. It is sometimes also used to describe any hastily made decision. According to the website _phrases (dot) org (dot) uk_, this proverbial saying was first expressed in print by William Congreve in his comedy of manners _The Old Batchelour_, 1693.

"Loo" game: English card game which was popular from the 17th to the 19th centuries.

See www(dot)davidparlett(dot)co(dot)uk/histocs/loo(dot)html


	80. Chapter 80 Ten Thousand Stars

_**Ch 80 Ten Thousand Stars **_

Lizzie bit back the tears that threatened to burst forth. All her concentration would be required to keep her footing on the dark and uneven cart track. She stumbled along until she came to the steps leading to the Rose and Ivy, climbed them as fast as she dared, and hurried across the garden to the door. The inn was dark, but for one upstairs window. She opened the door as slowly as she could, but the string of bells still tinkled lightly as she closed it behind her.

Without any sunlight shining through the windows, the pleasant dining room of earlier was now gloomy and filled with shadows. Lizzie could just make out an irregular shape roughly the size of her hat lying on the table nearest the door. Leaning over it, she could smell roses. _Ah, the soap..._

Trying to be as quiet as possible, she climbed the stairs and tiptoed down the hall to the room. Light shone through the crack beneath the door. When she entered she found a single candle flickering in a glass chimney shade on the bedside table. A much-patched chemise lay across the foot of the bed. A wave of gratitude eased Lizzie's sadness. She smiled as she considered Allie's generous acts. _Is this how it would feel to have a sister?_ She removed her sword belt and knife, and placed them on the dresser with her hat. Slipping out of her boots, she took off her vest and Allie's borrowed clothing. She laid her folded clothes across the boots at the foot of the bed before donning the loaned chemise/nightgown.

Lizzie blew out the candle and slid beneath the lightweight gingham duvet. A sigh escaped her as she relished the rare sensation of soft, clean sheets. As she lay in the dark, she reviewed the conversation with Jack in her mind. Suddenly she was too unhappy to enjoy the feeling of the cool, fresh linens against her skin. She lay awake looking at the treetops which waved outside the open window, outlined by the light of the waning moon. The sounds of night birds calling to each other floated on the evening breeze, and the scent of roses drifted up from the garden below. It was a lovely room, and a lovely evening. But Jack had ruined all of it for her. _I don't know what to make of his actions. Why doesn't he want to be seen with me? Why doesn't he want to be with me? Does he regret marrying me? _Tears dampened her pillow as she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

"Lizzie! Lizzie, wake up!" A persistent voice hissed in Lizzie's ear. A hand shook her shoulder gently. Lizzie's sword hand instinctively reached for her left hip, and came away empty. She awoke in a panic.

"What! What is it? Who's there?"

"It's me! Jack! Get up and come with me!"

Lizzie grumbled, "It's the middle of the night, Jack! Can't we wait until morning to go back to the ship?"

"We're not going to the ship now! I've another destination for us. Get up! We have to get there before sunrise! Hurry!" He took her by the arm and started to pull her out of the bed.

"Let go! I can get up by myself! We have to get where by sunrise?" She pushed him away. "Ugh! Your clothes are damp! Where have you been?"

"On a rock, on the beach..."

Lizzie got to her feet and stared at him in the moonlight. "May I have a little privacy please?"

"There's no time for that now! Hurry up!" He found Lizzie's clothing and shoved it into her arms. "Come on, step lively! We're on a tight schedule, savvy?"

Lizzie stepped into the pants and pulled them up underneath the blouse-y chemise. "Where are we going at this ungodly hour?"

"Can't say, love, but we've got to leave right now or we won't get there in time!"

Lizzie turned her back on him to remove the chemise and don the shirt and vest. When she was properly dressed, she turned around. Jack was holding her sword and hat in one hand, and her boots in the other. "You can put these on downstairs! Come on!" He turned and left the room. Confused, half asleep and still angry, Lizzie followed him down the stairs and out of the inn. As she closed the door, she noticed that he'd taken down the bells.

* * *

Just outside the door, Jack handed her the boots. "Quickly!" he urged, as she sat on a bench and struggled to get them on. As soon as she stood upright, he was off again. She had to run to catch up.

"Jack, slow down! Where are we going?"

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Jack turned away from the docks. Lizzie stopped. "Jack! I'm not taking another step until you tell me where we're going!"

He faced her, plopped her hat on her head and shoved her sword belt into her hands. "East end of the island's our destination, and we have t'get there before sunrise or we'll be too late!" While she buckled on the sword, Jack lit a lantern.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"It's Allie's", was all he said before he seized her hand and headed east at a rapid pace. As they traveled, the road began a gradual ascent up a long slope.

Lizzie could barely keep up with Jack on the rough cart road, but he refused to slow down. Instead he put an arm around her waist, and half-carried her along, holding her up when she stumbled. Despite her better judgment which insisted that the whole trip was lunacy, Lizzie found herself becoming anxious to learn their destination.

Jack stopped and held up the lantern so he could look closely at the trees. "Ah! There it is!" It appeared to Lizzie that just ahead the road turned away from the sea and continued uphill. There was a dense wall of trees and bushes all along the road. Several deep gashes had been slashed into the bark of one large tree at the turn.

"There _what_ is? Is this what you brought me to see?" Lizzie asked in a disappointed tone.

Jack took her hand in a firm grip. "No, this just marks a path. We're not there yet. Footing's rough ahead love, hang on tight." He began to squeeze into the undergrowth behind the marked tree, towing Lizzie behind him. The branches that he bent snapped back into place as he passed. Lizzie clutched her hat with her free hand, and ducked her head behind Jack's back to avoid being hit in the face.

The lantern was of little use in the thick brush. Lizzie clung to Jack's hand for guidance in the dark. Beyond the dense wall of bushes that lined the road, a rough path led through the trees. Lizzie could tell that the ground beneath her feet was now sloping sharply downward, but she could not see to choose her footing. Descending the steep, rocky hill in near darkness with only Jack's hand to guide her was difficult at best. She slipped several times, and felt Jack brace himself to keep her from falling.

As they descended, the trees and bushes around them became shorter and sparser, and Lizzie could begin to see stars overhead. The ground beneath her boots became softer, less rocky. By the time they reached level ground, Lizzie could see to pick her own way by the dim light of the stars. They were on a white sand beach. Looking back where they had been, Lizzie could see that they had just descended a steep hill that led up to the top of a rocky bluff which faced the sea. The black night sky was beginning to fade into the first deep shades of pre-dawn blue.

"Jack, where are we?"

"East end of Tortuga Island."

Now will you tell me why we've come here?"

"Not yet. You'll see…"

He kept her hand in his as he led her along the end of the bluff. As they reached a tall outcropping that protruded from the face of the cliff, Jack stopped.

"Close your eyes and hold onto me, love." Too excited to think about their earlier quarrel, Lizzie shut her eyes and gripped Jack's hand tighter. She felt herself being led through a narrow opening that brushed her shoulders. The sounds of the ocean became muffled and the air grew still. Jack stopped and turned to face her, still holding onto her hand.

"We've reached our destination. Keep your eyes closed and sit down on the ground, Lizzie." She felt his other hand touch her shoulder, guiding her down until she was seated on soft sand. He released her hand and she heard his effects rattle as he sat down next to her. "Lay back, it won't be long now!" Again, his hand touched her shoulder, encouraging her to lean back until she was lying down. She felt cool, fine sand beneath her fingers, smelled the acrid odor of smoke from a snuffed lamp wick and heard shuffling and clanking sounds as Jack lay down beside her on the sand. "Just another moment, love! We got here just in time!" He took her hand gently in his. Lizzie was too confused to remember to be angry with him. "You can open your eyes now."

Lizzie did so, but she could see nothing; it was pitch black. "Jack, what madness is this? Where are we?"

* * *

As she spoke, from behind their heads the first light of the new day crept across the surface of the ocean, up the beach, through the narrow opening and over their bodies. As it progressed past their feet, Lizzie thought she saw brief glints of light overhead. As the sun climbed further above the horizon the sunbeam widened, shining more light into the place where Jack and Lizzie lay on the sand.

Lizzie gasped in wonder as their surroundings were revealed. They were lying on the floor of a nearly spherical cave that arched above them. The brilliant sunlight of the clear Caribbean dawn reflected from thousands of natural crystals that covered the entire interior of the cave but for the floor. Every crystal glittered like a diamond in the warm light. Even the white sand on which Lizzie and Jack lay glinted and twinkled as sunlight fell upon it.

For an instant just as the sun fully cleared the horizon, its rays blazed directly into the low mouth of the cavern and touched the far wall. The entire cave lit up as the sunshine was mirrored by every facet of every crystal, momentarily giving each one the appearance that it was lit from within. Awestruck, Lizzie held her breath as she witnessed the spectacle.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, its light no longer shone straight into the cave. Its effect on the crystals faded until their magical glow disappeared. They still gleamed in the sunlight that was reflected from the white sand beach outside, but the enchanted illumination of the direct light of sunrise was gone.

Lizzie let out her breath in a huge sigh. Jack got up and helped her to her feet. Her smile was the smile of one who had just received the most precious of gifts. "Oh, Jack, that was beautiful! Thank you! What is this place?" She spoke in a hushed, reverent voice as if she were in a grand cathedral.

Jack smiled back at her, looking pleased with himself. "I only know it as 'cueva de diez mil estrellas'. The cave of ten thousand stars."

"It's extraordinary! How did you learn of it?"

"I'd seen this beach from the helm many times on m'way to the port. I thought I saw something odd through the spyglass once or twice. But there's a nasty reef a couple miles or so offshore that keeps ships from sailing too close, and the trade wind currents out there are so strong they'd sweep a longboat out to sea. I never got a good look from the ship. Curiosity finally drove me to walk here one day."

"That performance," he waved a hand at the crystals, "only happens on one day every year, when the sun rises in exactly the right spot on the horizon to shine in at just the right angle. I happened to remember it last night while I was...contemplating. I wanted you to see it..." He stopped, and took a deep breath.

"Contemplating..." The word reminded Lizzie of their conversation the night before and she felt herself stiffen in anticipation of another argument. "Speaking of which, how did your card game go? Did you get the things in your head worked out to your satisfaction?"

Jack stepped close to her, and put his hands gently on her shoulders. "Lizzie, there's something I have to tell you."

* * *


	81. Chapter 81 Yemaya

**A/N:** Dear Reader: This chapter mentions an extremely unorthodox view of religion. If you find yourself feeling offended in any way, please keep in mind that this is just a story, and a fictional character is the one expounding on the subject. It's never my intent to offend or insult; I only write for amusement.

--AdhesivePrincess

August 8, 2008

* * *

_**  
CH 81 Yemaya**_

Lizzie felt as if she was floating with no control over her direction. Many wildly opposing emotions had flowed through her since she'd found Jack at the pub. She didn't know what to feel or think or do or say first. _What could it be that he has to tell me?_ Her imagination quickly produced several possibilities, some of which made Lizzie bite her lip.

Before he could speak again, a voice from outside the cave interrupted them.

* * *

Rich and sultry, the thick accent dripped from the words like honey.

"Jack Sparrow, I t'ought I would find you here on dis day!"

Jack jerked away from Lizzie as if she was on fire, and rushed out of the cave. Lizzie cautiously followed him, one hand on the hilt of her sword. The first thing she saw was the tall outcropping they had passed in the dim pre-dawn light. Now, in the bright light of early morning, she could see that it wasn't just a big rock.

The figure was almost twice her height, roughly hewn and primitive, and worn from centuries of exposure to the weather and the sea. But it still clearly depicted a woman wearing a dress with a long, full skirt. She wore her long hair in many plaits, similar to Jack's. Across her cheeks were two carefully spaced half-moon rows of dots which matched the ones below her full, smiling lips.

* * *

Lizzie looked for Jack, but he had gone past the statue and out of sight around the end of the bluff. With a backward glance at the stone figure, she followed. She found him at the water's edge facing 6\the very woman who was depicted in stone behind her.

Tia Dalma stood ankle deep in the ocean. Jack's head was bowed as though he was in the presence of a figure of great authority. Lizzie was bewildered at the sight. She had reluctantly accepted that Tia Dalma was a voodoo witch with potent magical power. But she had never seen Jack bow to anyone, not even to her own father, the Governor of Jamaica. Why was he genuflecting to Tia Dalma? Lizzie approached them, hoping that one or the other would offer an explanation.

Tia Dalma tilted her head and smiled that maddening and mysterious smile that Lizzie had seen every time the woman spoke during the entire voyage to the Locker. She nodded very slightly in greeting. "Elizabet. Or should I call you Missus Sparrow?"

Lizzie looked at Jack, who had raised his head when Tia Dalma spoke. It had only been a moment since he had left the cave. "Did you already tell her?" Jack didn't have a chance to answer.

"No, his ship told me."

"The ship told you? The..._ship..._told you. The _Black Pearl_ told you that we were wed?" Even after all that she had seen and experienced, Lizzie couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"Yes, de Pearl told me. She talks to me when she feels de need. I knew when you took her out of de Pacific Ocean."

Jack asked, "How did you know that?"

"I heard her scream."

* * *

Wearing a stricken expression, Jack sat down on a boulder. "_Oh, bugger!_ I knew it… I knew she was trying to tell me something! But how...?"

"Ah, dere's de mystery. When Davy Jones agreed to raise her from de bottom of de sea for you, he found he couldn't do it alone. He asked a sea nymph to help him. She agreed after she saw your face. She t'ink you are very beautiful." She smiled at Jack, but he did not return the smile.

"When he raise de Black Pearl, Davy Jones' magic bound de nymph to de ship, and bound bot' of dem to you. De magic cannot be undone to free the spirit of de nymph without sending de Pearl back to de depths forever."

Jack gasped. "The Locker...what happened to her there?"

"Ah, she was freed for a time while de Pearl was in de Locker wid you. But strong magic is in de binding spell. Because de ship was not destroyed when de Kraken took her, de nymph was drawn back to the ship when she returned wid you. But de nymph, she don't mind as long as you are her captain. While Barbossa had her, she wished she could sink herself."

Jack started to laugh. "So you're telling me that my ship really can think and has opinions?" His expression was both surprised and triumphant.

"She is happiest when you are happy. She knows you heard de music she played for you." Lizzie stared at Jack, eyes wide. He smiled at her, and turned back to Tia Dalma.

"What else does she want me to know?"

"She don't ever want to go into de jungle again."

"Can I talk to her?"

"You can talk to her—she understand every word you say. But she can only speak wid de lines and de sails and de timbers, because she have no mouth. She does talk to you. But you must learn to listen if you want to hear what she say."

Lizzie couldn't stand it any longer. "How is it that you know all of this? And why didn't you tell Jack a long time ago? It might have been very helpful--""

Jack waved his hands frantically at Lizzie, trying to stop her. "Lizzie, no..."

Tia Dalma interrupted him.

"You have not told her?" she asked Jack.

"I've not told anyone, as you asked."

"Told me what?" Lizzie insisted. Jack looked to Tia Dalma for direction. She nodded.

Jack bowed slightly and made a flamboyant hand gesture toward Tia Dalma. "Lizzie, may I present her majesty Yemaya, goddess of all the oceans, also known as Oshun, Thetis, Yemoja, Agwe, and more than likely as many other names as there are languages. Oh, right, and sometimes she's also known as voodoo priestess Tia Dalma."

* * *

"She's… a goddess. A goddess." Lizzie repeated the word, hoping that saying it again would cause it to make sense.

"Aye, she's a goddess, one of several, if I understand correctly." He looked to Yemaya for validation. She nodded and walked up the beach to where Lizzie stood. As she stepped out of the ocean, her feet formed themselves out of clear water. Since her childhood, Lizzie had been told that it was impolite to stare, but she couldn't stop herself. A minnow swam in circles within the confines of Yemaya's transparent, shimmering left ankle.

"Dere are as many gods and goddesses as dere are fish in de sea, maybe more. Each one has dere own realm and rules it as dey see fit." Her eyes followed Lizzie's gaze downward, and suddenly her feet were made of flesh. A ring of tattooed fish encircled the left ankle.

Lizzie felt a sudden need to sit down on the sand before her knees gave out and dropped her there. "But I was taught that there is only one God..." she began.

Yemaya laughed. "Many of dem would like dere followers to believe dat! And even dat one god you learned of is sometimes t'ree, is he not?"

Lizzie frowned. "But...what about Heaven and Hell?"

"Dere are many heavens, and many hells, even more than dere are gods and goddesses. Each man gets de heaven or de hell he knows he deserves. When de time come, you cannot lie to yourself. De gods do not judge you; you judge yourselves." Lizzie looked at Jack. He dropped onto a boulder, and his face was contorted with emotion.

Yemaya followed Lizzie's gaze. Lizzie could see the compassion in her eyes as she observed Jack. "Dere is something you want to know, Jack Sparrow?"

Jack rasped out his question in a hoarse, choked voice. "Where is my brother?" That one question seemed to open the door to a long sealed room. "All the while I was in the Locker I searched for him. I couldn't find him anywhere. But they told me that he died on his ship. He died at sea. Shouldn't he have gone to Davy Jones' Locker? Why couldn't I find him? Is it possible that he didn't die? That maybe he's alive somewhere?"

Yemaya knelt in front of him so she could look into his eyes. "No, Jack. He is dead. I cradled his body all de way to de bottom, just as I do for all who are buried at sea."

Jack closed his eyes tightly and said nothing.

"Your brother did not go to de Locker because it is only for t'ose who are cursed. Your brother was prepared to die, and he accepted death when it came for him. He went to his heaven, not to de Locker. You went dere because of Davy Jones' curse, and you came back because it was not yet your time to die."

Jack's eyes popped open. As he opened his mouth, Yemaya raised a finger and smiled gently. "Ah, ah, don't ask me dat question. I cannot tell you everyt'ing!"

"Where is my brother's heaven? What's it like?" Jack's voice was quiet and urgent.

"He is sailin' a beautiful ship before fair winds on smooth seas, always charting new lands and making new discoveries."

"Can you see him? Can you talk to him? How can I find him?"

"I can see and hear him. If you wish to tell him something you need only to speak it, he will hear. And when de time finally come, you will find him, or he will find you." Jack continued to stare at the goddess, emotions chasing each other rapidly across his features. His face settled into a slight frown.

"Yes, Jack, what is it?" Yemaya asked him, still smiling faintly.

"Then what Heaven did my mum go to?"

Yemaya looked out to sea, focusing on the far horizon for a few seconds before she replied. "She is lovely wid her wings and her lyre. She sings wid de voice of an angel."

"She always could," Jack murmured. Lizzie thought she saw him grimace for a brief second. "Is it possible for a soul to change heavens?"

Yemaya laughed again, but did not reply. She looked again at Jack, who was still staring intently at her. She nodded. "Somet'ing still plagues you."

"And my... my father?"

"He is already in his hell, but he is not yet dead."

"Oh." He broke eye contact with her and gazed at the sea in silence.

Yemaya stood up. Lizzie got the feeling that their audience with the goddess was drawing to a close. She got to her feet and bowed her head as she had seen Jack do.

"Please, may I ask you something?"

Yemaya came closer to her. "Your mother also wears wings and a white gown. She is quite happy in her heaven."

Lizzie raised her head to look at the goddess. "Thank you for telling me. But that's not what I was going to ask. I'd like to know why you went on the voyage with us to the end of the world. If you're a goddess with unlimited power, couldn't you have just used that power to bring him back? Why do you appear in a human form and why is it always the same one?" She gestured toward the ancient statue. "For that matter, why do you keep company with people at all?"

As Yemaya looked at Lizzie with her dark, enigmatic eyes, Lizzie felt certain that the goddess could see into her soul.

"It take a heart willing to sacrifice everyt'ing to bring someone dey care for back from de Locker. On dat journey, I was not de one wit de power; I was only de guide." She smiled at Lizzie.

"I am everyt'ing dat belong to de sea." As Lizzie watched, the woman transformed into a sea gull, then a long piece of kelp, then a large iridescent fish that flopped on the sand, then a mermaid with flowing black hair, and finally back into the familiar shape of Tia Dalma with her ragged dress and weird ornaments. "I choose dis shape," she touched her chest, "when I move among de people because it does not frighten t'ose who honor me, t'ose who devote der lives to de sea; de fishermen, de sailors, de pirates."

Yemaya smiled that inscrutable black-tinged smile once more. "And I mingle wid de people because I find dem... interesting. Some of dem are almost as unpredictable as de sea. Dat is why I went on de voyage to de Locker wid you-- to bring back one of de unpredictable ones."

* * *

**  
A/N:** According to one source, there actually is a pre-Columbian rock carving of a goddess at the east end of Tortuga Island, and there are caves on Tortuga as well. A beautiful crystal lined hollow geode was the inspiration for the Cave of Ten Thousand Stars. I just imagined it about a thousand times bigger when I created the cave. There really are crystal filled caves in several places on earth, but if there are any on Tortuga their discovery has not yet been announced.

Yemaya and the other names are all actual names of ocean or water goddesses from various religions around the world. Their stories are as varied as the cultures from which they came. Google is a great resource for finding mythology to flesh out a story.


	82. Chapter 82 Wishes and Madness

_**CH 82 Wishes and Madness**_

Yemaya's voice was quiet but firm. "You must never speak of dis wid anyone except your husband, Elizabet Sparrow." Lizzie nodded. She had no intellectual or moral qualms about obeying the command. _There's not the slightest chance that I'd tell anyone about this…_

Yemaya turned to look at Jack. He was still seated on the boulder, watching the waves lapping at the sand only inches from the toes of his boots. He fidgeted absently with one of his rings, twisting it around and around his finger. She watched him for a few moments before returning her attention to Lizzie.

"He needs you--" Alarmed, Lizzie took a step, intending to run to Jack's side. Yemaya put an arm out to stop her. "—to be quiet."

Tattered skirts swishing softly, the goddess returned to Jack. As she knelt before him in the sea foam, she lifted his face with both her hands to make him look at her. She spoke to him, her long fingers still spayed across his cheekbones. But her words were too quiet for Lizzie to hear. Finally Jack nodded, just once. Yemaya rose to her feet, turned away from him and vanished into the glittering blue ocean.

* * *

Lizzie moved slowly across the beach and sat down on the boulder next to Jack.

He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He didn't move, didn't look up when Lizzie approached. Water droplets glistened on his cheeks and beard where Yemaya's hands had touched him. Lizzie noticed three scratches on Jack's face just below his left eye; they had not been there when she had seen him in the pub the previous evening.

Questions began forming in Lizzie's mind faster than she could keep up with them. Before the first one could cross her tongue, the goddess's parting words came back to her. '_He needs you to be quiet_.' She closed her mouth and pondered the things Yemaya had said while she watched the waves roll endlessly in and out.

* * *

Many, many waves later, Jack startled her out of her musings. "Steven was near to four years older than me. He took care of me after our mum died, taught me how to fend for m'self. We were thick as thieves, practically knew each others' thoughts. Steven died defending Allie and Sam in a battle aboard his ship. I didn't find out until six months later. I nearly did m'self in when I got the news; drank until it didn't hurt any more, then kept drinking to try to forget. It might've worked if I'd had enough money…"

He sighed, and watched the waves again. Lizzie held her breath waiting for more. It took much longer than a minute before more finally came.

"But I couldn't forget. The harder I tried, the more I convinced myself that he couldn't really be gone. I never stopped lookin' for him. For seven years I've looked for him at every port, expected to see him in a crowd, on the docks, on a ship, in a pub, somewhere, anywhere."

He watched the water lapping at the sand for a long time before he spoke again.

"I should've been there when it happened, to protect him. We'd just parted company a week or so before. I should've stayed longer. I would have been aboard when they were attacked. I could've defended him while he lowered Allie's longboat..." He exhaled sharply through his teeth, one calloused, bejeweled hand clutching the fist made by the other.

"It should've been me, not him. He had a wife and family that needed him, need him, will always need him. I had just m'self, nobody to miss me. Or it should've been him who came back from the dead, not me. It all got bungled up somehow. He shouldn't be dead. If he'd only been in the Locker, he could've come back with me, or instead of me. It's all wrong."

Lizzie watched his face. His lips pressed together firmly, and his eyes clenched shut tight. He tucked his chin down to his chest and remained that way, nostrils flaring as he breathed. Lizzie waited, not speaking or moving.

Jack took one ragged, uneven breath before he raised his head. When he opened his eyes, Lizzie did not see the tears she had expected. His eyes were clear and dark as night. He seemed mildly surprised to find her sitting next to him. "Oh! Lizzie…" He paused. "Was it madness to hold onto the hope that he wasn't dead?"

_I can't remain quiet and answer him too…_ She thought for a while before she replied. "No... When my mother died, I was sure that she was only asleep. I kept asking my father when she would awaken. I'm certain that if I hadn't seen them … bury her… I would not have ever believed that she had died."

Jack mulled over her words for some time. "Of course, naturally…" he murmured. Lizzie wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself. A moment later he asked, "Is it madness to wish that he hadn't died?"

She answered him without hesitation. "If it is, then everyone who's ever lost someone who was dear to them is mad."

* * *

A/N:

"Thick as thieves" means very close friends who have no secrets between them.


	83. Chapter 83 Expectations

_**CH 83 **__**Expectations**_

Jack rolled his eyes sideways to look at Lizzie. He frowned, then his eyebrows rose and he nodded slowly. "Fair enough..." He turned his attention back to the water.

They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the waves splashing, and watching the sea birds wheel and circle in the cloudless blue sky. The occasional pelican dove into the clear turquoise water, always coming up with a beak full of fish. Small terns ran about picking up crabs on the shore, screeing and whistling as they argued over choice tidbits.

"Jack, do you believe her? Tia--I mean--Yemaya? Do you believe what she told you?"

"About him? Aye. She gave me the answer I didn't want, but I don't doubt her. She almost never speaks plain like that; when she does, it's the truth." Sadness crossed his features.

Lizzie placed her hand on his arm, and Jack covered it with his own. "He'd have liked you, I think."

Lizzie smiled at his words, and while his lips smiled back at her, there was sorrow in his eyes. It wasn't the cocky smile Lizzie was used to seeing, and it made her heart ache for him. Unable to find words that would heal his pain, she simply leaned her head against his shoulder and hugged his arm.

"You'll have to tell me all about him. I wish I could have met him."

"Oh, you'll certainly meet him someday!" The sudden fervent, confident tone of his voice startled Lizzie. She sat upright and turned to face him.

"Jack, do you believe the rest of what she said, about all the gods and heavens?"

"It makes as much sense as anything else I've heard and more sense than some of it."

"Do you worship Yemaya? You bowed to her."

"Just bein' polite, 's all. It's always good policy to avoid offending a god. Yemaya doesn't care if people worship her or not. She's the sea; she's eternal. We're very, very temporary. But she can be a tad temperamental if she feels she's been slighted."

"But you never bowed to Tia Dalma."

"When she's Tia Dalma, she's not Yemaya."

"Oh. I... um... I see, I think. Are all the gods like her? I can't believe I just asked that question..." Lizzie put her fingers to her temples and shook her head.

"I've no idea, love, I've only met the one. She finds humans amusing, so she drops in on us from time to time. Just like her oceans, she's capricious and inconstant. She talks in riddles, and has her little jokes at our expense, hurricanes and undercurrents and such like. But if you can get past all that she's not such a bad sort."

Lizzie pulled a face. "How did you ever come to meet a goddess?"

"Long story made short, I had an encounter with some freed slaves. I freed them, but that's not the story. They were grateful and had a big to-do in my honor. They prayed to their ocean goddess to grant me her favor and bless my comings and goings every which way. Their voodoo witch read my fortune in her pile of crab claws, and told me a lot of hocus-pocus warning me about my future. I laughed in my sleeve, thanked her and sailed away directly into infamy." He touched the place on his forearm where Beckett had branded him as a pirate.

"A few years later I met up with said witch here in the islands. By then I'd experienced some of the future that she'd warned me about and I had a bit more respect for her powers. We got to know each other better, got sort of friendly. It's good to have someone like that on your side, savvy? Then I found this cave and saw that," he gestured toward the large statue, "and added things together. Next time I met up with her, right off I knew that she knew that I knew. She told me to keep that information to m'self. When a goddess tells you to do something, it's best to do as you're told. I've never had a yearning to be a rock crab."

* * *

They sat side by side in silence. Despite all that had just occurred, Lizzie could not stop her earlier worries from creeping to the forefront of her thoughts.

"So now what, Jack?" Lizzie wondered aloud.

Jack shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked toward the sun. "It's past six bells. I think we should go find something to eat! I'm famished!"

She touched his arm. "What were you going to tell me in the cave?"

He looked out to sea. "Seemed important at the time, but now I don't recall."

Lizzie sighed in exasperation. "Are you going to explain last night to me?"

He looked at her sideways with a puzzled expression. "What's to explain? I played Loo. You started a riot."

Lizzie stood up and glared down at Jack. "What about the rest of it? Why did you get me all upset?"

Jack breathed deeply, squared his shoulders and looked up at her. His expression was inscrutable. "Lizzie, not to put too fine a point on it, but _you_ got you all upset, and you did a fine job of it all on your own. I was tried and convicted before I was ever accused of a crime! As I see it, I did nothing wrong. I'm innocent, for once."

"Really? You didn't come back to the inn!"

"How is that wrong? Did I tell you that I'd be back at a certain time? Or even on a certain day?"

"Well... no. But you didn't come back when you were through with the jeweler!"

"I said I'd be back when I was finished with my business. Did I say exactly what that business was?"

"Well... no. But then you made excuses to spend all our time apart when we're ashore—"

Jack slapped his leg and looked away from her. "I knew this would happen!"

"What would happen? Whatever are you talking about?"

He got to his feet, hands clenched and pressed against his thighs. "Soon's a man puts a ring on a woman's finger, she thinks she's got a ring through his nose. What ever happened to you not wanting to hamper my freedom?"

"What happened to love, honor and cherish? Jack, was marrying me one of the mistakes you mentioned?"

Jack frowned and blinked. "I don't think I heard you right. Come again?"

"Last night you said you'd made some mistakes. Was our marriage one of them? It seems the likely explanation."

Jack's mouth opened, but no words came forth.

"Why did you really marry me, Jack?"

Jack snapped, "I told you! I didn't want you to leave the ship."

"I had already agreed to stay."

"Wasn't enough. I wanted a guarantee."

"A guarantee. That's ever so romantic..."

"You didn't seem to mind at the time..."

"You did it just so you could bed me, didn't you?"

Jack snorted. "Sorry love, but no. We were two days from making port. If all I'd wanted was a tumble, I could have waited two days more for something less permanent. So no, that wasn't why. But it is a fine perquisite!" He grinned. "We're wed; the reason doesn't matter now. The end result's the same, isn't it?"

Lizzie crossed her arms defensively. "Yes, it is. I no longer have to suffer being ignored and avoided by the man I love while I'm aboard his ship. Now I have the privilege of being misled and avoided by my husband every time we go ashore until death do us part. That wasn't quite what I had hoped for when I dreamed of being married."

Jack sighed dramatically. "Lizzie... Do you plan to act this way often?"

"Act _what_ way?"

"Needy and dependent. I didn't expect that of you."

"What _do_ you expect of me, Jack?"

"I expect you to be yourself. Confident, clever, independent—not a clinging vine.'

"A clinging vine! Jack, I was _worried_ about you! You walked out in the middle of a meal, gave me vague answers about when you'd be back, and then didn't return at all. And when I came to find you, you were covered in strumpets and didn't want anything to do with me! You behaved quite strangely, especially for a newly married man! Did you not tell me that when it comes to really important matters, you believe that actions speak louder than words?"

"I do recall saying that."

"If you can manage it, put your self-centered feet into my shoes for a moment, and look at yourself. Do you really think that your actions of yesterday said anything that your wife of three days would want to hear?"

* * *

Without waiting for his reply, Lizzie turned away and stomped angrily across the beach. She followed their tracks in the sand toward the slope they had descended before dawn. She could see the vague outline of where a path had been hacked through the bushes on the hillside some time in the past.

The steep hill was much easier to traverse in daylight. Using tree trunks and branches to pull herself past tricky spots, she reached the road at the top of the hill. When she stopped to catch her breath, she realized she was alone. Jack had not followed her.

"Devil take that man!" she mumbled to herself. "I certainly will repent in leisure..." She bit her lip and started walking back to the Rose and Ivy inn.

* * *

A/N:

"Laugh in one's sleeve" means to laugh inwardly; to be secretly amused. Dates back to the 1500's when it was possible to conceal amusement by hiding ones face in the large loose sleeves found on most garments.

"perquisite", additional fringe benefit, or 'perk'


	84. Chapter 84 Cousin Lester

_**CH 84 Cousin Lester**_

The only person Lizzie found in the inn was Allie. As she entered the kitchen, Allie greeted her with a smile and a casual wave of the knife she was using to chop a huge pile of yams. Lizzie didn't smile back.

"Good morning?" Allie offered cautiously.

Lizzie simply shook her head.

You weren't in your room this morning, yet the soap was still on the table. I didn't know what to think!"

Lizzie slumped onto the stool by the window. She leaned an elbow on the table where Allie was working and rubbed her forehead with one hand. "I don't know what to think either. But we don't have to go to the apothecary. I don't believe I'm going to need those herbs now…"

"Why not? Lizzie, what happened?" Allie put down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron, giving Lizzie her full attention.

Lizzie decided it was best not to mention that she'd gone into town alone. "Jack spent the night in a whorehouse."

Allie was horrified. "Did he…? Oh, he wouldn't! Would he?"

Lizzie shook her head again. "I don't know. He said he was only playing cards... and celebrating HIS wedding with his friends. He acts like he doesn't want anything to do with me. Allie, I don't know what to think, I don't know what to do... I just don't know." Her eyes filled with tears, and she swallowed hard as she tried not to burst into sobs.

Allie squeezed Lizzie's shoulders. "I know exactly what to do. You still need to get some clothing of your own, no matter what comes of this. We can ask around when we go into town. Anyone who was there will know what happened last night. The residents of Tortuga _love_ to gossip!"

Lizzie looked at Allie sadly. "And if they say what I fear they might, then what?"

"Don't borrow trouble! Come on, chin up! Everything will be alright." She hugged Lizzie quickly.

* * *

Despite Lizzie's protests that she wasn't hungry, Allie spooned out cornmeal porridge from a pot on the back of the stove and placed it in front of her. "You need to eat as much as you can while you're ashore! The good Lord only knows when you'll get another chance at fresh food when you're at sea!"

Lizzie grudgingly agreed, and forced herself to take a bite. The sweet flavor awoke her appetite; suddenly she was ravenous. While she devoured her breakfast, Allie finished preparing the dinner meal. "There! That just needs to simmer for a few hours and it'll be ready when we get back!" As she placed the large pot on the stove, Sam came into the kitchen. She smiled when she saw Lizzie. "Good morning, Aunt Lizzie! I'm so glad that you didn't leave!" Lizzie couldn't help but smile back at her.

Allie said, "I've got just a bit of work to do in the garden before we go. Care to join me?" Lizzie followed Allie outside to the herb garden behind the inn. As they reached the herbs, Allie said, "Oh, I forgot my basket. Wait here; I'll just be a minute." She trotted back to the inn, leaving Lizzie alone on the path. A moment later, Bobby came around the back of the stable. She shrieked in delight when she saw Lizzie.

"You're still here!" She ran to Lizzie and threw her arms around her aunt's waist in an enthusiastic hug. Lizzie happily returned the little girl's embrace. "Look what I found while I was feeding the chickens, Aunt Lizzie!" Bobby stepped back a pace and pulled something out of the pocket of her skirt. Lizzie knelt down for a closer look. As Bobby held it in the palm of her hand, a small green lizard took a tentative step on the pink skin.

"Oh, it's so tiny! What will you do with it?" Lizzie remembered the many times that she had brought home small creatures from her illicit adventures into woods and fields, much to the consternation of her nature-fearing nannies. Bobby replied, "Don't worry! I'm going to take it back to the forest where it will be safe." She tucked the lizard into her pocket. Lizzie couldn't think of anything to say, so she hugged Bobby again.

* * *

Allie returned carrying a small covered basket tightly woven of fine grass. She addressed her younger daughter. "Your aunt and I are going into town on errands--" Bobby's mouth opened but her mother kept speaking. "--and before you ask, no you may not come with us." Bobby closed her mouth and tried to hide her disappointment. Allie went on. "Sam's watching over dinner as it cooks. Over breakfast your grandfather was prattling on about fixing that loose shelf in the pantry. While I'm away, your job is to be helpful wherever you're needed. Go and see if there's anything either of them needs you to do." She hugged Bobby and gently pushed her toward the inn. "Go on now!"

When Bobby was out of sight, Allie spoke quietly to Lizzie. "I was thinkin' that maybe it'd be best if you go as someone other than the only new woman in town. It'd be too obvious that you must be Jack's new wife, and you'll not hear a truthful word about last night from anyone. Can you put your hair up beneath your hat like you did when you first came in? You looked so like a boy!" She began plucking leaves off a bush, then stopped and turned back to Lizzie. "And don't wear _that_." She waved a handful of leaves toward Lizzie's Damascus sword.

"Why on earth shouldn't I?"

"When you were dressed as a lad, you didn't look like the type to be carryin' a weapon that fine. It'll draw attention in town, and not the kind you'd want. You'd be challenged by anyone who took a fancy to it."

"If not my sword, then what? I won't go unarmed!"

"Just wear your dagger. Be quiet, be careful, and you won't need more than that."

Lizzie sighed. "Oh, alright, I'll leave it here. I just hope you're right." Lizzie went inside and dashed upstairs to her room. She undid the heavy buckle, and laid the belt, sword and scabbard on the bed. As she checked to make sure she still had her money, she felt the ruby jewelry scrape against the coins in the bag. She removed the jewels and tucked them into one of the dresser drawers. _No sense in taking those along unless I plan to sell them. I certainly can't wear any of it while I'm dressed like this! _She carefully placed the small money bag in an inside pocket of her vest.

Standing before the mirror, she twisted up her hair until it all fit under the hat, leaving only the shorter hair in back visible. She pushed the hat down onto her head to cover her forehead, and examined her appearance. She still looked too feminine; she needed something more. Peering more closely she recognized the problem. Her cheeks were too rosy and her lips were too pink; she was too clean.

Looking around the room, she spotted the candle in its glass lampshade on the nightstand. Running a finger around the inside of the lampshade produced a blob of dusty soot on her fingertip. She rubbed her hands together and smeared the soot over her entire face. Seizing her old pants from the bedside chair, she wiped off some of the soot. When she was finished, she inspected her work in the mirror. Looking back at her was a dirty-faced teenaged boy. She wiped her hands on the old pants, adjusted the hat one last time, and bounded down the stairs.

She found Allie in the kitchen giving last minute instructions to Sam about the dinner meal. "If anyone comes in, make sure you serve them politely and properly and don't forget to collect their money! I'll be back in time to start supper." Bobby came in grinning happily. "Grandpapa says I'm at liberty today!" Sam glanced at Allie and shook her head. "That means she'll be in the stable all day," she said disapprovingly.

As the girls looked at Lizzie, both of them exclaimed "What happened to your face?"

Lizzie grinned. "It's a disguise!"

Allie kissed both girls on top of their heads, although she had to stretch a little to reach the top of Sam's. She picked up the small basket of leaves, and then she and Lizzie went out the front door and down the stone steps to the road. They did not notice the observer watching them from the shadowy woods next to the garden.

* * *

Allie walked at a rapid pace; Lizzie had to exert herself a bit to keep up.

"I hope this trip to town will settle matters. So—who am I?"

Allie looked at her in confusion. "You're Lizzie!"

"No, I'm not! I'm supposed to be a boy. Who am I? How do you know me? You know everybody on this island. Somebody's bound to ask you about me, aren't they?"

"Oh, right! Let's see… you could be my cousin, visiting from somewhere. Where are you from, originally?"

"London."

"That will do. What's your name? Hmmm… Lizzie, Lister, Lester, that's it, you can be Les Wightman, my cousin from London."

Lizzie repeated the name a few times to get it straight in her mind. "Les Wightman, Les Wightman. Got it!"

She felt vulnerable without the sword on her hip. She caught herself feeling for it several times as they walked toward town.

"Allie," she asked, "what's the significance of those Damascus swords? They seem so important to you and Jack."

"Ah, the swords... A few months after Steven and I were wed, a small ship approached the Polaris while we were somewhere in the North Sea. She was sailing under Spanish colors, and of course we were at war with Spain at the time. Steven immediately ordered guns at the ready. He was prepared to fire when the other ship raised a white flag and her captain signaled that he wanted parley.

Steven agreed to let him come aboard alone. He carried a long bundle wrapped in oiled cloth. He presented it to Steven along with a letter with an enormous wax seal. They spoke in Spanish for a few minutes. The other captain took a long look at me, out to here with Sam." Allie waved both hands at arms' length in front of her stomach. "Then he bowed to both of us and went back to his ship. The bundle contained four nearly identical Damascus swords, belts and scabbards. The letter was in Spanish; Steven translated it for me. It was from his maternal grandfather, the Marqués of Castile."

Lizzie interrupted. "Their grandfather sent them the swords? Why?"

"They were family heirlooms over two hundred years old. As I recall, the original owners were twin brothers and their twin wives. The wealthy father of the brothers had the swords made for the couples as wedding gifts. The quotes on them were chosen by the men and their wives."

"How odd, to give ladies swords as wedding gifts!"

"They weren't intended for the ladies to use. As the story goes, the women were to pass their swords on to their oldest sons when they reached an age to wear them. When the men were too old to fight anymore, they were to pass their swords on to their first grandsons. So the swords were to skip generations as they were handed down. But there was a scarcity of male children in later years. Steven's grandfather only had one brother, and he did not marry. When he died, his sword came to the Marqués, as did the swords of his father and his uncle. He had all four swords, and only one daughter—no sons."

"Their mother was his only child?"

"Yes. Her mother died bearing her. The Marqués did not remarry until Alejandra was nearly grown, and he had no other children after her. Anyway, the Marquéssent all four swords to Steven, his oldest grandson. He intended that the tradition should be started over with Jack and Steven and their wives and sons. Steven always wondered how his grandfather even knew about him, let alone managed to send a ship to find him. Their mother had no contact with him after she was wed."

"Their mother really was the daughter of a Spanish Marquis?"

"Yes she was, according to that letter...I only wish I knew what happened to it. I can't remember everything that Steven said it contained. It was the only proof that Steven and Jack had that their mother was of noble blood."

Lizzie was quiet for several minutes. "I think this explains a lot, Allie. Jack always seemed upset whenever he saw my sword. Now I understand why—it belonged to his brother. I didn't know he also had one until the night we were wed. And he's sold the fourth one, so it's lost forever. The family tradition can't be carried on properly with one missing."

"And I'm sure that the swords remind him of Steven," Allie added. "Those were their only tie to their mother's family and having family relics to hand down to their children seemed to bring them closer to each other."

Lizzie paused. "You don't have any sons. What are you going to do with yours?"

Allie laughed out loud. "Bobby wants to have it when she grows up! She fancies herself carrying it as she explores the world! But I won't give it to her. If one of the girls bears a son after they're wed, he'll get it when he's of age. If not, who knows--maybe you and Jack will have a whole crew of sons someday and I'll give it to one of them. Or maybe I'll just keep it and have it buried with me!" She laughed again. "For now it stays under the bar, and if there's ever trouble in the inn, it's close to hand. Oh, look! We've reached the docks. Don't speak much or you'll give yourself away!"

* * *

The road became more crowded, and many heads turned to stare at them as they walked up the cobblestone street into town. Lizzie was sure they were all staring at her. They reached the town square, where a large, formerly ornate fountain dominated the scene. Water trickled feebly out of pipes that protruded from broken statuary. At the far end of the square, a clock tower stood guard. It chimed ten o'clock as they arrived. Lizzie was surprised it still functioned, and wondered if it really kept correct time.

"So, what first?" Allie asked Lizzie when nobody was nearby. Lizzie thought for a moment. "Flannel, for…you know."

"Ah, right. That way!" She pointed toward a side street and they headed in that direction.

Again, people stopped and stared at them as they made their way through the crowd. When the two women got to the shop, Lizzie whispered to Allie, "Why are people staring at us?"

"Because you're a stranger, and I'm wearing trousers. We're a double curiosity!" She pushed the door open, and they entered the textile shop. A few moments later they came out with a package wrapped in paper.

"One thing off the list. What's next?"

"Clothes!"

Allie stopped to think for a moment. "If you want brand new clothes, we'll have to go to the seamstress and get you fitted, and order them, and that will take weeks. And it will also surely give away your disguise! But there's a trading post where pirates barter things they've plundered for things they need. You might find something there that you can take right away."

"Shall we, then?" Lizzie smiled at her. Her straight, white teeth looked out of place in the dirty, sooty face that surrounded them.

They walked the length of several shops before Allie was hailed by two gaudily dressed women. The one in the faded crimson dress had unnaturally red hair. The other had pale blonde hair and wore a filthy canary yellow gown. Lizzie recognized them as the women who had been hanging on Jack's shoulders in the pub the previous night. She couldn't help but notice that their elaborate dresses were several years out of fashion and quite ragged around the hems. Despite this, they were still dressed better than any of the other women on the street. Both of them had on enough makeup to paint the side of a ship and Lizzie could smell their perfume from several feet away. They swooped down on Allie like birds of prey.

"Allison Sparrow! Just the woman we wanted to see!"


	85. Chapter 85 Truths and Rumors

_CH 85 Truths and Rumors_

"Giselle. Scarlet." Allie's greeting was terse as she nodded at each of them in turn. Lizzie raised an eyebrow at the names.

"What's this about your notorious brother-in-law gettin' married?" inquired the redhead.

"Yeah! Tell us the real story! We wanna 'ear all about the wench! I don't think she's real, m'self. I think 'e made 'er up along with that nonsense about gettin' out o' Davy Jones' Locker!"

Before Allie replied, she glanced over at Lizzie, who was gnawing her lower lip. She looked back to the prostitutes and smiled brightly.

"Oh, she's real, I can tell ye that alright. They're stayin' at my inn. She's a nice girl, real pretty, and has good manners. I think she must come from good breeding, although I don't know that for certain. She doesn't talk about 'erself much. I think Jack did well fer himself, I'll tell ye plain."

"I 'eard she's the daughter of the gov'nor o' Jamaica!" laughed Scarlet. "Jack connived her into fallin' in love wif 'im so's to get 'imself out o' dancin' on the end of a rope!"

Allie burst out laughing. "That's ridiculous! Who ever heard of a pirate marryin' a governor's daughter?" Lizzie bit her lip harder, looked at the ground and tried to appear to have no interest in the conversation. She found it very difficult.

"I 'eard she's ugly as sin, with a big 'airy wart on her chin and crossed eyes, and all scarred from the pox!" followed Giselle. "The gov'nor couldn't marry 'er off, so 'e offered Jack a full pardon if 'e'd marry the ugly wench!"

A third woman joined them. She was dark haired and much younger than the first two, probably barely out of her teen years. Her frayed and stained dress was not as bright or elaborately trimmed, and she wore no makeup. She asked Giselle, "Are ye talkin' about that bastard Sparrow's wife?"

Giselle glared at the girl with obvious distaste. "Sadie! If you keep up behavin' the way you did last night, you'll get us all barred from the Faithful Bride! Keep yer claws to yerself from now on, girl! We're above the common street walkers! We're supposed to have some manners!"

"But 'e said 'e was goin' ta marry me and take me wif 'im! And then 'e married 'er instead!" the girl whined. "'e lied to me! I should've clawed both of 'is eyes out last night when I 'ad the chance!"

Scarlet made an incredulous face. "When did 'e tell ye that?"

"Last time 'e were 'ere…a year or so back."

"Was 'e drunk at the time?" Giselle queried.

"When's 'e not? 'e did pass out at the table not long after 'e said it…"

The older whores burst into fits of laughter. "Ye stupid girl! They'll all tell ye that when they're in their cups!" Lizzie couldn't hold in the laugh, so she covered it up with a coughing fit.

Sadie diverted the subject away from herself. "De ye know what I 'eard about 'is wife? I 'eard that she was a real slut, she weren't even chargin' for her favors, just givin' 'em away to all takers! And that she forced Sparrow to marry 'er with witchcraft! And I 'eard that she sailed as a pirate for a time! That's shameful, a woman pirate. Some women 'ave no decency!"

Allie just laughed. "Somebody's a good story teller! No, there's no truth in any o' that, except that she is a pirate. She sails with 'im."

The whores looked at each other in astonishment. "She's a ships whore? How'd she get the captain to marry 'er?"

Allie shook her head. "No, nothing like that. She's part o' the crew!"

"I don't believe it!" stated Giselle firmly. "Neither do I!" said Scarlet. Sadie just shook her head in disgust.

"I'm sorry if you don't believe me, but that's the truth. Oh, and she was a virgin until they were wed."

At this, Lizzie turned away and pretended to study a shuttered shop window until she felt the blush leave her cheeks. All three whores shook with laughter at Allie's last comment. "A virgin? On a pirate ship? She must be as ugly as they say! After all the women he's had, why would 'e want an unskilled maiden, unless she was just another prize to plunder? She can only play that card once, and then she's just like the rest of us. And what would any virgin want with 'im?"

"Maybe she's fond of 'im? 'e's not such a bad sort, for a pirate. And maybe he saw more in her than just a challenge!" Allie countered.

Giselle shot back, "You're just defendin' 'im because 'e's yer brother-in-law! 'ow do we know you aren't givin' us fibbery too?"

Scarlet elbowed Giselle. "You know, a lot of this tallies with what 'imself was sayin' last night. 'e said she was pretty, and good with a sword, and she was on 'is crew and a good sailor."

Giselle frowned slightly. "Hmmph! Maybe so. Every time I got close to 'im last night, 'e shoved me away. 'E never said more than 'ello to me, until 'e started yellin'. Wouldn't even buy me a drink! That's not like 'im! 'E's always real friendly!" She laughed. "_Real_ friendly! But not last night! 'E didn't act like 'imself at all!"

A sharp pang of guilt stabbed through Lizzie's heart, followed by a soothing wave of relief. _I was wrong. Oh, thank God, I was wrong. Jack… _She had to stifle the impulse to drop everything and run to find Jack.

"Jack was yelling?" Allie's insatiable curiosity was thoroughly piqued now.

Giselle went on. "Oh yeah, a bit after the first big brawl o'the evening got settled down, Sadie started spoutin' off all the things she said she'd 'eard about 'is wife. 'E stood up and started shoutin' about 'ow dare anybody insult 'er. Let me think o' what all 'e said." She put her finger to her chin and pondered for a moment. "'e said she was finer than all the women on the island put together and we weren't worthy to lick the soles of 'er boots. And 'is mates from the ship were carryin' on about 'er as well, sayin' 'ow she fought alongside 'em to save the ship. Right about then was when stupid Sadie 'ere went an' clawed Jack. The whole place fell into another brawl, and Chad the innkeeper shoved Jack out the door. We 'aven't seen 'im since!"

She turned to Sadie again and raised her voice as she addressed the girl. "And as for you, if you ever do anything like that again, we'll tell everyone on the island you've got the French disease, I swear it!"

Sadie slunk away with her head down, looking like she'd been whipped. "I just wanna get married and be respectable…" she whimpered as she disappeared into the passing crowd.

* * *

While Giselle was talking, Scarlet had been sizing up Lizzie. "So, who's this?" she asked Allie, as she slipped a much-too-friendly arm around Lizzie's waist.

"This is my cousin Lester, from London. He's along to help me carry on my errands for the inn." Lizzie gave a curt nod, but being introduced to the very whores Jack had mentioned made her squirm uncomfortably.

"Ah, Lester, wouldn't you rather come with me and 'ave some fun, instead o' totin' and carryin' for Widow Sparrow?" Scarlet breathed her suggestion into Lizzie's ear. Her breath reeked of onions and rotten teeth.

Giselle saw what Scarlet was doing and posed her own proposition into Lizzie's other ear. Her breath was even worse than Scarlet's. "Come with _me_, darlin'! You'll 'ave a better time!" They looked at each other and laughed. "Or best yet, come with both of us!"

Lizzie grabbed the blonde's hand and diverted it away from herself before Giselle could grope her crotch. She took a step back, freeing herself from their grasp. She coughed once, and looking at the ground, replied in what she hoped was a reasonable imitation of Jacob's cracking voice, "Work and family comes first. Perhaps I'll get away to see you later!" Her altered voice sounded to her like a teenage boy with a cold, so she coughed again.

Taunts of "Aww, ain't you a shy one!" and "The boy don't know what 'e's' missin'!" came from the two prostitutes. Allie took Lizzie's arm, pulling her away from them. "If you'll excuse us, we still have places to go, and we must get back to the inn as soon as possible. Good day!"

Lizzie let Allie lead her by the elbow, and they left the whores standing in the street. As they walked away, one of them said loudly, "That Allie Sparrow sure is a strange one. No other woman on this island would dress like that on purpose! It's no wonder nobody's married 'er!" Their laughter followed Allie and Lizzie down the street.

* * *

Lizzie fought valiantly to suppress her smile until the whores were out of sight around a corner. "Did you hear what Jack said last night?" she hissed to Allie as soon as she dared to speak.

"Aye, and did you hear what he _did_ last night? Or more to the point, what he _didn't_ do?" Allie responded.

"I did…" Lizzie's smile could have lit the entire street. "But did you _have_ to tell them I was a virgin?"

"It was a slap in their faces, Lizzie. A woman who has the choice to maintain her virtue until she marries is a woman of a much higher class than they are. I know some of the whores; widows or orphans all of them. They had no other option but to turn to that profession to get by. They don't want to do it, but they're trapped. Those two lord it over all the others like they're somehow better than the rest. I hope someday they get put in their places. Nothin's worse than an uppity whore."

Lizzie shook her head. "I can think of a few things…"

"So where are we going next?" asked Allie. "We're walkin' with no destination!"

"Where's that apothecary?" Lizzie grinned wickedly. "Looks like I might need the herbs after all!" Her face fell at the thought of having to apologize to Jack. "After I eat quite a few words, I'm afraid."

"Just around this corner." Allie pointed. "I sell him herbs and roots from my garden for his concoctions. That's what's in this basket. I've even mixed up medicines for him a few times. But I can't make your herb tea myself because I can't afford some of the imported ingredients. Here we are!" She pushed open a door, and they entered the apothecary's shop.

The man behind the counter looked up when the bells on the door jingled. "Good morning, Widow Sparrow!" He greeted her with a smile. "What have you brought me today?"

"Just some angelica leaves! But my cousin here needs some of the conception preventative tea, for, uh, his new wife."

The man turned to the shelves behind him and lifted a large, heavy stoppered glass jar that was more than half full of what looked like dried berries and crumbled leaves. "How much?" he asked as he sat the jar on the counter.

Allie looked at Lizzie, who in turn looked at the jar. _I don't know..._ She looked back at Allie and raised her eyebrows in silent question. Allie shrugged in response. Lizzie turned to the apothecary. "All of it," she rasped in the faked voice. The apothecary's shocked expression made her add, "Goin' ta be a long voyage…"

The man cleared his throat to try to hide his surprise. Then he began weighing and measuring the mixture into smaller jars which he sealed with wax. He packed them all into a wooden box, cushioned with straw. He tied the box closed with heavy string and deftly knotted the twine to make a carrying handle. "There's at least a year's worth there." He accepted Lizzie's old gold coin with a raised eyebrow, turned his back to them and bit it. A smile spread across his face as he eyed the tooth marks he left in the soft gold. He counted out several silver coins in change and gave them to Lizzie with fervent thanks.

Next, he dumped the leaves from Allie's basket out onto the pan of a scale. He weighed them and paid her one piece of eight. Lizzie lifted the box and prepared to leave, but Allie stopped and turned to the apothecary. "I'll have to be the one to show...'is wife how to mix up the tea. But it's been a long time since I needed it, so I don't recall how much goes into a cup!"

"Take one spoonful, powder it up, stir into a full cup of any hot drink, let it steep for half an hour and drink the whole thing, including the dregs. Tell her not to miss a day, or else!" The apothecary addressed Lizzie and waggled a finger in warning as he winked conspiratorially.

Allie turned to Lizzie. "Is there a mortar and pestle aboard the ship?"

Lizzie thought for a moment. She only knew of one, and it was kept in the armory locker for grinding up gunpowder ingredients. She shook her head. Allie said, "Do you have a mortar and pestle to sell?"

The apothecary cheerily wrapped up a small heavy stone bowl and a stone grinding implement in brown paper, and set it on the counter. Lizzie paid for it and slipped it into a pocket of her vest. As the women went out the door, the apothecary called after Lizzie, "I'm _sure_ you'll enjoy your voyage, sir!"

* * *

"_Now_, clothes!" Lizzie muttered when they were out in the street again. Allie looked around to get her bearings. "This way!"

They headed back toward the town square. Across the square, Lizzie could see a sign with a woman's picture on it. As they got closer, she could make out the faded letters that read "Faithful Bride".

"Well, at least now we won't have to go in there to find out about last night!" Lizzie sighed. "I wasn't looking forward to that." She walked with her head turned to look at the pub, and bumped into someone going the other way. Shaken, she spun around to apologize, and found herself looking at Tobias.

"Hey! Watch where you're goin'!" Tobias growled in a tone Lizzie had never heard him use before.

"I'm so sorry! Tobias, it's me, Lizzie!"

Jacob had also stopped. He spoke first. "Miss Elizabeth! What… why…. Why are you all dirty?"

"Shhh! I'm supposed to be a boy. I thought I'd be safer in town this way. Call me Lester!"

Allie had gone a few steps farther before she realized Lizzie had stopped. She saw the boys and came back in a hurry.

"Hey, you, don't start any trouble!"

Lizzie wasn't sure who Allie was addressing. The boys looked from Lizzie to Allie and then at each other, perplexed.

Allie greeted them. "Good morning, Jake, Toby. When did you come back?"

Tobias touched his forehead in greeting as he replied, "Good morning, Missus Sparrow. We came ashore yesterday."

Allie frowned. "The only ship that docked yesterday was the Black Pearl!"

"Aye, we were aboard her."

Lizzie nodded. "They were a great help on our trip back from Singapore."

The boys beamed. Allie shook her head as if to clear it. "How in the world…? Your mum said you left on a merchant ship!"

"It's a really long story, Missus Sparrow." Jacob shook his head, indicating that it was too long to tell while standing in the street. He looked again from Allie to Lizzie and furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "How do you two know each other?"

"Come up to the inn sometime and we'll swap stories. Does your mum know you're back yet?"

The boys looked embarrassed. "Um, no. We sneaked over to the farm after dark, tryin' to to find out if _he_ was still there. But we couldn't tell. We don't want to make it harder on mum by showing up on the doorstep if he is."

"You know that somebody's sure to tell her they've seen you in town!" Allie scolded them. "It'll tear her heart out if she hears that you came back and didn't come straight to see her. You'd best get over there right now and tell'er yourself, even if ye have to face 'im down!" The boys looked at each other in alarm. Then Allie relaxed and smiled at them.

"But your stepda's not there any more. When your mum heard what he'd done, and found out you'd signed onto that ship, she gave'im the boot for good!"

The brothers looked at each other, and brilliant smiles spread across their faces. "We'd best be off then!" said Tobias. "We've got a big surprise for mum!"

"See you later, Miss Eliz--I mean Lester! Goodbye, Missus Sparrow!" They turned around and ran across the town square. Watching them go, Lizzie realized how much they'd matured in the few months that she'd known them. Sailing on Jack's ship had been good for them.

Allie commented, "Their mum never wanted her sons to sail. She was heartbroken, enough so to risk everything by chasin' her new husband away with an axe when she learned what he'd done! She's been runnin' their small farm by herself since they left. She'll be glad to have her boys back again."

* * *


	86. Chapter 86 Busybodies

A/N: October 18, 2008

Dear readers:

Today I got a wonderful gift from all of you. There are 50,000 hits on this story's hit counter! I'm halfway to my dream of 100,000 hits. Thank you all!

--AdhesivePrincess

_**CH 86 Busybodies**_

Jack peered through the dense bushes and trees that marked the eastern boundary of Allie's garden. After Allie and Lizzie were out of sight he hurried to the back door of the inn. He slipped inside and followed the sound of hammering into the pantry, where he found Phillip repairing a shelf in the cupboard.

The hammer in Phillip's hand fell noisily to the floor when Jack suddenly appeared next to him.

"Shhh!" Jack put his finger to his lips and gestured for silence with the other hand.

Phillip frowned at Jack, shook his head and bent to retrieve the hammer. As he straightened up, he said in a low voice, "I thought you'd left! What have you done now?"

"Nothing!" Jack affected his best innocent expression. "Why? What have you heard?"

"Nothing good, that's a fact! Allie told me where you were last night. And she said that Lizzie's beside herself because you think you made a mistake marryin' her!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, bugger! Women are such busybodies!" He looked around the room and over both shoulders. "Speaking of which, where are the girls?"

"Sam's in the kitchen, Bobby's probably in the blasted stable again."

"Good!" His expression became serious. "I _am_ leaving. Getting married wasn't one of my better ideas. Savvy?"

Phillip's eyes opened wide. "Come on, let's go somewhere else to talk. Sam might come in 'ere any time, lookin' for somethin'." He tossed the hammer onto his bed, and gestured for Jack to follow him out the back door. Jack hung back, waiting to see where Phillip was headed. When Phillip reached the first of the small cottages, he opened the door and beckoned Jack to join him. Jack dashed across the garden and ducked inside, closing the door behind him.

Phillip leaned against the crumbling plaster wall, frowning and arms crossed. "So, then, what's made ye change your mind so soon? Ye seemed sure enough the night ye wed 'er!"

Jack grimaced. "It's like bein' married to me mother…ugh, bad metaphor…the bloody woman seems to think she's my nanny! She wants to know where I'll be and when I'll be back and who I'll be with and what I'll be doing and says I shouldn't do this or that or, or..." He gestured with his hands in exasperation.

Phillip shook his head. "What did you expect being married to be like? Did you give it any thought at all?"

"I didn't...didn't think marryin' 'er would make 'er change so much so fast."

"When I suggested that you go after that prize, I expected you would court her, not wed her the next time you spoke to her. What possessed you to do that?"

"We discussed courtship; it seemed like a senseless, fussy business to me. We had already done most of the things a formal courtship is meant to accomplish. A pirate's life can be very short, as you know. We reached an accord. It seemed a waste of time to wait!"

"So, in truth, you wed her after only one conversation. You hardly know her! At least you love each other. That's a start, anyway!"

Jack looked as if he'd been gut-shot. He stared at the half-shuttered hole in the wall where the window glass used to be, and said nothing.

"What now?" Phillip asked in annoyed tones. "You do love her, don't you?"

Jack continued to stare at the window, watching a tiny lizard crawl up the sagging shutter, onto a vine and out of sight. Finally, without looking at Phillip, he murmured, "I don't know."

"Oh, lad, of all the half-cooked ideas you've ever had, this is the most dangerous one of them all! Pirate's life or other, marriage is for a lifetime. You'd best spend some time getting' to know your bride, Jack! And I don't mean in a biblical way, either!"

Jack snapped back, "I know all I need to know about her. I can't take a lifetime of that! If a man can't live his life by his own rules, what's the point of living?"

Phillip laughed. "Jack, m'boy, you took the vows willingly with over thirty witnesses present. As I recall, you set forth a whole new set of rules for yourself when you performed that ceremony!"

Jack snapped back, "I won't live the rest of my life on a leash!"

Smiling, Phillip replied, "It's a tad too late for that, Jack. Seems to me that now it's up to you and her to work out how much leash she's goin'ta give ye! It might not be as bad as you think. She's a reasonable lass. Ye might try talkin' to 'er first before you abandon that ship."

Jack held both hands out before him as if to stop Phillip's suggestion and shook his head vehemently. "Oh, no, there's no talking to that woman! Once she gets an idea in her head she won't be talked out of it!"

"Hmph! Sounds like someone else I know. So why haven't ye left already then?"

Jack looked down at the filthy floor. "I...uh...I'll be leaving shortly."

"Right then, I'll let you get on with it. I've got a shelf to fix!" Phillip crossed the small room and reached for the door handle.

Jack coughed nervously. He kicked a chunk of plaster with the toe of his boot and stared at the trail it left as it rolled through the dirt on the floorboards. "I should never have let her come aboard. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be in this predicament…"

Phillip stopped and turned to look at Jack. "Are ye still worried that she's goin' to get ye killed?"

"That thought does cross my mind from time to time...every few seconds."

Phillip drew a deep breath. "I'm going to speak plain now, Jack. I've kept my mouth shut as much as I could during the voyage out o'respect for your rank as captain. But now that we're ashore and paid up for our work, you're not my captain, you're kin. You're my granddaughters' only uncle. I consider ye a friend, Jack, but I don't think you're goin' to like what I've got to say."

Jack raised narrowed eyes to look at Phillip. "Go on..."

"It's past time ye admitted to yourself that your brother wasn't watchin' 'is own back that night. I 'eard the whole story from crewmen who saw what 'appened. 'E 'ad to 'ave seen that Allie's 'ands were full with Sam. 'E should've been payin' closer attention to what was goin' on around 'im. 'E should've called for some help with the longboat. But 'e insisted on tryin' to loose the lines by 'imself. The Spaniard that shot 'im picked 'im off from the deck of the other ship in the dark of night because 'e was an easy target standin' still in that white nightshirt. If it's anyone's fault 'e's dead, it's _his_, Jack, _not_ _hers_."

Jack grimaced and swallowed hard. For a moment he stood with his eyes closed and did not speak. Finally he looked at Phillip, his eyes still squinted half-shut. "I...know."

He paused. "But that doesn't mean it couldn't happen to me as well!"

Phillip shook his head. "Bloody coward…" he grumbled.

"I am not! I have an extremely strong instinct for self-preservation, that's all! I considered this quite thoroughly while I sat on the beach last night..."

"You spent the night on the beach? But Allie said..."

"Allie leapt to a very invalid conclusion based on faulty evidence presented second-hand. I _was_ in the pub last night—with Gibbs, playing cards. I left after the second big brawl started and sat by myself on a spit of sand until nearly dawn. I thought I had everything settled in my head until I spoke to Lizzie again. She blew up at me and sailed off in a huff."

Jack shook his head sadly. "I saw her with Bobby just now. I had no idea she'd be so good with children. She'll not have any of her own if she remains with a wretched pirate. She deserves better. It's best if I just go away and leave her here. She and Allie seem to have become close already. Allie can help her get settled, and in time, she'll find someone else who can give her a stable life and a family."

Phillip fairly shouted his response. "Don't be a daft ass, Jack! Ye can't just leave and expect 'er to forget all about ye like that!" He snapped his fingers. "She'll pine and grieve, and become just like Allie who says she'll never wed again. And I don't fancy that she'll stay put here if ye leave. If ye just up and disappear, she'll only go out lookin' for ye! Your dyin' didn't keep her from goin' after ye. Merely goin' missing isn't goin' to put 'er off one bit!"

Jack straightened his shoulders and spoke defiantly. "I can be very good at hiding when I don't want to be found!"

Phillip's tone was sarcastic. "I'm sure ye can. But you're takin' the ship, are ye not? It'll be harder to hide the only black-sheeted coal-black East Indiaman in existence. Are ye goin' to put white sails on the Black Pearl and paint 'er green an' red?"

Jack affected a pout. "I might..."

"Good for you! So you've spent the last fourteen years runnin' from the Navy and Davy Jones. Now you're goin' to spend the rest o'your life runnin away from your wife. Be sure to write from time to time and let us know how that's goin', will you?"

Phillip smiled and patted Jack affectionately on the shoulder. Then he opened the door and walked out into the mid-morning sunshine.

* * *

Jack opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. He frowned for a moment, and then his eyes opened wide. He smiled and slammed a fist into the palm of the other hand in triumph. "That's it! I'll write a letter and leave it where Lizzie will find it. If I explain everything in writing, she'll know there's no point in following me!" He ran out of the cottage in pursuit of Phillip, calling, "Wightman, wait! I've got it all worked out!"

Phillip was nearly to the back door of the inn when he heard Jack's voice. He turned to see Jack running full tilt toward him. Another voice cried, "Uncle Jack didn't leave!"

Bobby's head poked out of the stable door. She grabbed up her skirt hem with practiced ease. Head down to watch her footing and elbows pumping, she ran as fast as she could on a course to intercept Jack. Sam stepped out of the inn and peered around Phillip's shoulder. "Grandpapa, who's shouting?" She clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, how wonderful! It's Uncle Jack!"

Jack skidded to a halt in front of Phillip. "I need to write her a letter! That'll explain—Ooof!"

Still running with her head down, Bobby didn't anticipate Jack's sudden stop, and ran into him at full speed. The top of her head intersected his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. As they collided, her nose connected with one of his heavy bronze belt buckles. Blood shot from the injured organ, spattering Jack. Bobby screamed and began to cry at peak volume.

Sam began to scold her. "Mama's told you over and over that ladies aren't supposed to run! That's what you deserve--"

Phillip interrupted her. "Sam, save it for later. Go fetch a cool wet cloth!" He knelt and grasped Bobby by the shoulders. "Calm down, girl. It'll only bleed harder if you cry!" Bobby took a shuddering breath and the wailing reduced to loud whimpers.

"That's the girl! Be strong!" Phillip murmured as Bobby's breathing began to return to normal. Sam returned from the well with a dripping wet rag. Phillip wrung it out and placed it over Bobby's nose. Sam rubbed Bobby's back with her hand and whispered assurances.

Jack was bent double, gasping and wheezing as he clutched his stomach. "Can't... breathe... dying... over... here... doesn't... anybody... care?" No one answered him.

* * *

A few moments later, Bobby's immediate crisis had passed. The cool rag eased the sting in her nose and stopped the bleeding. As soon as she recovered from the shock of seeing so much of her own blood she remembered Jack.

"Uncle Jack!" He was still doubled over, panting as he regained his breath. Bobby touched his arm. "Did I hurt you?"

Jack grunted, "Your head is just as hard as your father's!" And despite his condition he chuckled. He slowly stood upright, looked at the blood on his pants, and then at Bobby. "That's a lovely remembrance you've given me! How's the nose? Is it broken?" He turned to Phillip for the answer to the last question.

"No, she'll get to keep her pretty looks for a while yet." Phillip grinned.

Sam stepped closer to Jack. "Uncle Jack, would you like me to make some breakfast for you?"

Jack mumbled to himself, "So much for getting away unnoticed..." To Sam he replied, "Since you offered, of course! What's on the menu?"

Sam beamed. "Come into the kitchen and let's see!" Sam took one hand, and Bobby clung to the other as they led Jack into the inn. Phillip followed behind, wearing a very smug expression.

* * *


	87. Chapter 87 Les Buys A Dress

_**CH 87 Les Buys A Dress**_

Allie and Lizzie ventured on to the trading post. It was a much larger shop than the others they'd visited. It occupied an entire block, and had windows on three sides. The ornate door was centered in the front of the building, and bells on the jamb jingled merrily as the women entered.

As the governor's daughter, Lizzie had never gone into the shops that the common folk frequented. All of her belongings were either shipped from England, or had come from tiny, expensive and perfectly decorated boutiques that specialized in just one item, such as hats, shoes, or custom made dresses. She had never seen a shop like this one; it was huge and appeared to be in terrible disarray.

Heaps and piles of goods covered every shelf and table. Large swords and rifles hung from the ceiling rafters. Two barrels full of shoes stood in the middle of the store. Another barrel full of hats was placed near the clerk's counter, from behind which a monkey in a cage screeched at them in between bites of bread.

As Lizzie looked around wondering how she would ever find anything amidst the chaos, she began to see that the store was roughly divided into areas of similar items. There were sections for clothing, pots and dishes, books, small weapons, bolts of fabric and just about every other thing imaginable, all of it piled precariously high. She had never seen so many things for sale in one shop before.

"All of this was pirate plunder?" she asked Allie quietly.

"Most of it, I'd imagine."

A man cleared his throat behind them. "Ahem... we prefer to refer to it as liberated goods. It's less offensive to those who procure our merchandise, you see." He smiled eagerly at Lizzie, who simply stared back at him. _He sounds like he's taken English lessons from Jack! A pirate wouldn't care what his plunder is called as long as he gets paid for it!_

The man kept speaking. "Welcome to my establishment, young master! I run the largest purveyor of fine traded dry goods on Tortuga! What can I--" He glanced behind Lizzie and did a double take. "Oh! Good morning, Widow Sparrow! I haven't seen you in here in... well, ah, ever. And who's this? Did you finally find a new father for your girls perhaps?" He winked at her, attempting to draw her into his jest.

Allie refused to be drawn, and instead glowered at the man. "You've wildly missed the mark, Mister Walton. This is my cousin Lester. I've brought him here because he needs some things for a voyage."

The man immediately forgot about Allie and turned his attention to Lizzie. "Excellent, sir! You've come to the right place! Please, call me Simon. What might I help you find today? New boots? Candles? Lanterns? Clothing?"

Lizzie waved a hand casually and grunted, "I just wanna look around first."

Simon's smile fell. "As you wish." He returned to the shop's counter and seized a feather duster from behind it. He began dusting a table full of dishes. He glanced up every so often to see what they were doing.

Lizzie wandered around the cluttered shop until she found a shelf full of folded shirts. She pulled one out and held it up. It had a very large blood stain on the front surrounding a jagged hole. Shuddering, she shoved it hastily under the bottom of the pile. Allie curled her lip in disgust as she commented quietly, "Looks like some of it was liberated from corpses..."

Lizzie cautiously peeked at the shirts one by one until she found three that looked relatively intact. She held them up to herself, estimating the fit. Satisfied that they would suffice, she turned to look for trousers.

Another shelf held folded trousers of many sizes and colors. Lizzie ran her fingers across the folded edges, seeking the ones that felt the best to her skin. As she lifted a pair of soft black pants from the stack, Allie plucked them out of her hands and whispered, "No, those won't last a week aboard a ship. You need canvas or twill. Nothing else will do."

"Oh, bugger!" Lizzie growled, and started going through the whole pile of pants, surreptitiously checking them for blood stains or bullet holes.

Lizzie turned around to ask Allie's opinion on an unfamiliar fabric. It was then that she saw it. An involuntary sigh escaped her.

On the far side of the store, a bright blue gown hung on a dress form in front of the store's corner windows. It looked to be made of silk, and it was trimmed with layers of ruffled white lace on the sleeves and bodice.

"Oh, Allie! Look at that!" Lizzie breathed, gesturing a nod of her head toward the gown.

Allie looked where Lizzie indicated. She drew in a sharp breath. "It's absolutely lovely!" Then her forehead wrinkled in a small frown. "But what of it? I thought you didn't like to wear dresses?"

"There's a time and place for dresses, Allie. Just not _all_ the time. Oh, that's so beautiful!"

"And what would you do with it aboard the ship?"

"It's not the ship I'd want it for…" Lizzie sighed. "I'd love to show those awful women—" she pointed with her thumb toward the street "—who Jack Sparrow really married! Wouldn't that dress be perfect…" Her voice trailed off as she walked toward the dress to admire it up close. Allie did not follow her.

Lizzie was so taken by the dress that she forgot she was supposed to be a boy. She turned and spoke to Allie, who she had left standing halfway across the shop. "I wonder if it would fit me..." Her voice trailed off as she realized that she'd spoken aloud. Simon looked up, staring at Lizzie with wide eyes. Allie rushed to Lizzie's side, gesturing for her to be quiet. "Les, don't you mean you wonder if it would fit your wife?"

Lizzie felt herself blush under the soot. "Well, of course, that's what I meant! I was goin' ta say 'fit me wife!'" she said gruffly. She looked from Allie to the dress and back and said more quietly, "Could you put it on? You're about the right size. I'd like to see how it looks on…you." She'd almost said 'me' again.

Allie's eyebrows rose as far as they could go. "Me? Try on..._that_?'

Lizzie leaned close to Allie's ear and hissed, "I can't very well try it on myself, now, can I?

"But...whatever would you do with it?" Allie whispered back.

Lizzie sighed in resignation. "Oh, you're right," she murmured. "It wouldn't be practical aboard ship, and it would probably just get eaten by the rats."

She returned to perusing the shelf full of trousers. She eventually settled on four pairs; three for herself, and one to repay Mister Moore for the pants he had given her so long ago. Browsing around some more, she also found two feather pillows in reasonably good condition. She added them to the growing pile on the shop counter.

_Hmm, perhaps if I bring back a gift for Jack, he'll be more willing to accept my apology..._ She went through the shirts and pants again, this time seeking fine fabrics and fancy details. _He dresses quite outrageously compared to the crew. He ought to like these!_ She decided on a lace-encrusted shirt with pearl buttons, and the pair of soft black trousers she had found earlier. Lizzie added the items to her purchases and turned to look for Allie.

She found her standing before the dress form, gazing at the blue dress as if it was about to speak. Lizzie approached her and touched her arm. Lost in her thoughts, Allie jumped at the touch. She whispered, "I wanted to see it up close. I've never seen anything like it before. It's so beautiful..." Her words trailed off as she fingered the lace on a sleeve. Her other hand smoothed the silk skirt lovingly

Lizzie watched her for a moment, before saying softly, "I think you do need to try it on, don't you?"

Allie's smile fairly lit up the shop. She immediately beckoned the shop keeper. "Mister Walton, I would like to try on this dress, please."

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Widow Sparrow, that's a _very_ expensive dress, the latest style straight from Paris. It's only just come in, and has never even been worn. It was, ahem, liberated from a French vessel on its way to New Orleans."

"I understand all that. Do you expect anyone to just buy it without seeing if it fits? This isn't a seamstress shop where things are made to order and fit is guaranteed."

"But Widow Sparrow, the price…"

Allie glared at the man. "My cousin Lester is thinking of buying it as a gift for...um...his wife...ah...in the colonies! It's much too ornate to be altered easily, so I will need to try it on for fit. Unless, of course, you'll refund his money if it doesn't fit her..."

Simon looked horrified. "Of course you may try on the dress. We want to make certain that it will fit the lady!" He stroked his chin as he looked around the store as if seeking something. He broke into a big smile. "We don't have a dressing room. But you may use my office. You'll need assistance with the dress, I'm sure."

With some difficulty, he removed the dress from the form. He opened the door of a small, crowded room in the back of the store, carried in the dress and its accessories, and laid them carefully across the only chair in the room. He came out and motioned for Allie to enter. She stepped in, squeezing past a desk and a shelf full of ledger books to get to the small bit of open floor in the center.

Simon closed the door, and shouted up the stairs to the living quarters above the store. "Mary, come down here and help a customer!" A plump-cheeked woman hurried down the stairs. Simon gestured to the office. "Go in there and help her put on that French gown." The woman glared at him and mumbled "And now I'm a bloody lady's maid?" She knocked on the office door, and Allie opened it for her to enter. "Why, it's Missus Sparrow!" exclaimed Mary delightedly as she closed the door behind her. Lizzie could hear the two women chattering away, but could not make out what they were saying.

Quite some time later, Allie emerged from the office. The dress looked even better on her than it did on the form. The color was exactly the blue of the Caribbean sea on a sunny day. The cascading white lace on the bodice front was clean and crisp, and the wide neckline was cut just low enough to entice without exposing too much. The sleeves ended just below the elbows in ruffles of the same blue silk, each trimmed in lace. The skirt was so full that it brushed the doorway on both sides. And best of all, it was exactly the right length. Lizzie had difficulty restraining herself from touching the dress and feeling the lace.

Mary hovered around Allie like a bee around a flower, fluffing lace and adjusting skirts. "Oh, Missus Sparrow, it looks so beautiful on you! Too bad it's for your cousin's wife, ain't it?"

Allie smiled wistfully. "Perhaps she'll let me wear it some time, although I'd have no place to wear something this lovely on Tortuga! Wouldn't I be a sight cookin' meals in my kitchen wearin' this?" Both women laughed at the thought. Mary returned to the office, waiting to help Allie with the dress again.

Allie grinned at Lizzie. "I never dreamed I'd ever get to don something this wonderful, even for a moment!" She turned around and carefully pulled the skirts into the office so she could close the door behind her. She opened the door and poked her head out a second later to whisper, "It's got _three_ petticoats!"

* * *

Allie eventually came out again, hair disheveled. Mary followed her carrying the pile of petticoats and the dress. The shop keeper approached them as Mary laid the clothing on the shop counter.

"Would Missus Sparrow like to purchase the dress?" he asked. At the same moment, Allie said "Yes!" and Lizzie said "Not right now." They looked at each other, and while Allie giggled, Lizzie fought hard not to laugh or smile, as that would give her away completely.

Lizzie added, "I may come back for it later if I don't find a better gift for my...wife." The sound of a crying baby echoed down the stairs, and after bidding them good-day, Mary hurried off to tend to the child.

Allie turned to Lizzie. "But...what if someone else buys it first?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

Simon leapt at the opening. "As a matter of fact, someone else has been interested in that dress ever since it arrived. She's been trying to convince me to let her have it on credit."

"Who?" Allie asked.

"I suppose I should keep this confidential, but just between you and me, it's, ahem, Miss Cokes."

Allie's hand flew to her mouth in surprise. "Oh!"

Lizzie looked at Allie, confused. "Who's that?" she grunted in her faked voice.

"Do you recall the two women we met in the street just now? 'Miss' Cokes is the blonde-haired one." Allie's voice fairly dripped with distain.

Lizzie frowned shook her head. "Well then! We can't have 'er buyin' this dress out from under me!" She turned to Simon. "How much?"

Simon named a price that would have bought the Rose and Ivy inn twice over. Lizzie didn't even blink as she reached into her vest pocket and pulled out an escudo. Allie's eyes grew wide at the sight of the coin, but she said nothing.

"Will you settle for this?" She held out the coin.

Simon took it from her and looked it over carefully before testing it with his teeth. He smiled and nodded. "This will do. We have a deal."

Lizzie continued. "I don't want to take it with me just now. Mark it 'sold', and put it back on the dress form until I return for it. But before I leave, do you have the proper accessories for the gown? Shoes and whatnot?"

The man smiled. "Oh yes! We have the shoes that came with the dress, also the latest style from Paris." He hurried to another corner of the store and soon returned with a pair of sharply pointed blue silk shoes. They only covered the front half of the foot, and had a low, hard heel. It was obvious that they had not been worn. They were still straight, not yet having been formed into left and right shoes by the wearer's feet.

Allie drew a sharp breath of appreciation. It seemed that she was beginning to enjoy shopping for luxuries. Lizzie winced when she saw the shoes, remembering other encounters with similar ones. They always seemed to fall off at inopportune times, and the blisters they caused when they were new and stiff… _We pay a high price to be fashionable… _ She looked at Simon. "Those look flimsy. Got anythin' more… practical?"

Simon raised an eyebrow, but his smile never faltered. He scurried away and came back with a pair of white silk brocade covered shoes with small buckles on the fronts and almost no heel at all. They were full shoes that wouldn't fall off when she walked. Best of all, they'd been worn, so they were at least partly broken in. Lizzie had worn similar shoes before, and she recalled that they weren't nearly so painful to wear as the other style. Lizzie nodded to Allie, who took one and held it up to her own leather-shod foot. "They look like they'll fit, but the others match the dress..." Disappointment tinged her voice.

"Perhaps I should get 'er both pairs," Lizzie grunted.

Allie smiled happily. "I'm sure she'd like that! If you're going to purchase shoes, shouldn't you get her a new chemise, and some stockings and garters as well?" Her tone was light and mocking. Lizzie nodded again, but her eyes were squinted as she tried to not to laugh. She had another coughing fit to cover up her failure.

Simon's smile grew bigger as he mentally tallied the total. "Will the Missus need stays or a corset today?"

Lizzie and Allie responded in unison. "NO!"

Lizzie's resulting coughing fit went on for several minutes.

* * *

"I can have this delivered for a small fee," a smiling Simon suggested as Lizzie regained her breath. She shook her head.

"No, not just now. I'll come back for it when I'm ready to depart."

"As you wish, sir!" Simon continued smiling as he totaled up her other purchases and wrapped up the shirts, pants and pillows with paper and string. Lizzie paid him with several gold dubloons. Simon didn't bother to bite the coins. He simply smiled wider than ever and handed Lizzie her change.

* * *


	88. Chapter 88 Meanwhile, Back At the Inn

_**CH 88 Meanwhile, Back at the Inn**_

Bobby knelt on the stool and leaned on the table with both elbows as she watched her uncle devour his meal. Jack glanced up at her. "How's the nose?"

Bobby felt her nose carefully and smiled. "It's alright, I suppose. It only hurts when I push on it."

"Too bad it wasn't broken. It'd give you a nice, rakish look if your nose was bent like a crooked twig!" He grinned as he teased her.

"Oh, Uncle Jack!" Bobby scolded. She tried to look fiercely angry at him, but she couldn't contain her laughter for long. Jack licked the last of the sticky sweet cornmeal porridge off the back of the spoon, and handed the spoon and pot to Sam. She put them in the sink and began pumping the handle to dispense hot water. "Did you get enough to eat, Uncle Jack, or should I make some more?"

"No, no, I think that three helpings plus the dregs from the pot is plenty, Miss Samantha! I haven't eaten anything that good in a long time! You're as fine a cook as your mum is!" The compliment made Sam beam with pride. Jack patted his slightly distended stomach with both hands. He belched, which caused Sam to frown and Bobby to giggle. "Pirate, y'know! We've no manners at all!" he exclaimed with a crooked grin. "So, when's dinner?"

Bobby giggled again. "Mama said we'll eat dinner when she and Aunt Lizzie come back from town!"

Jack's eyebrows rose. "Why'd they go to town?"

"Mama said that Aunt Lizzie needed new clothes." Sam replied as she wiped out the pot and rinsed it.

Jack frowned. "Lizzie shouldn't have gone to town without me. 's not safe for her, even with Allie along."

"You should've seen her, Uncle Jack! Her face was all covered with soot! She said it was a disguise!" Bobby said. "She looked like a, a..."

"Chimney sweep!" Sam finished for her.

"Right, that!" Bobby agreed. "And a boy, too!"

Jack relaxed a little. "A disguise, y'say! Maybe that's not so bad then." He looked around the kitchen. "Does your mum have any paper and ink here? I've a need to write a letter."

Sam answered, "Paper, I think so, a sheet or two, anyway. But ink we've none. Mama says it's too expensive. She writes in the ledger for the inn with charcoal sticks."

Jack made a face. "Charcoal sticks. Hmph! Well, if it's all that's to hand, it'll have to do. Where does she keep the paper and charcoal?"

"It's in the armoire in our bedroom. Would you like to get it, or should I get it for you?"

Fear and sadness crossed Jack's face in rapid succession, before he forced his smile to return. "No, it'd be best if you got it for me. It's not proper for a man to go into a lady's boudoir if she's not 'is wife." The incredulous and doubtful expression on Sam's face made it difficult for Jack to hold in his laughter. "What? Well, it's _not_!"

Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head as she left the kitchen, mumbling something about morals and pirates. She returned shortly with a small piece of paper and a blackened twig.

"Here you are, Uncle Jack!" she said as she set the articles in front of him.

Bobby leaned closer. "Who are you writing to?"

"To whom are you writing?" Jack corrected.

"I'm not writing to anyone! You are!" Bobby shot back.

"You're not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition! The other way is more properly correct, or more correctly proper!" Jack said.

"A prepa-what?" Bobby frowned.

Jack groaned. "Ohhh, your mum's neglecting your education!"

"When are you going to tell us about some of your adventures, Uncle Jack? You haven't told us any stories in a very long time!" Sam asked as she came to stand at Jack's elbow.

Jack sighed. "Later, perhaps. But I really must write this letter first. And it's clear that I'm not to have any peace here in the kitchen, especially with _you_ around!" He winked at Bobby, who blushed. "Where's the room your aunt slept in? Perhaps I can find some quiet there!"

"It's upstairs, last room on the left!" Bobby informed him.

"That's where I'll be, then! Both of you pretend that there's a very large "do not disturb" sign on the door!" Jack picked up the paper and charcoal, and left the kitchen, headed for the stairs.

* * *

"I know full well where the room is..." Jack muttered as he reached the second floor. He entered the room and stopped. Lizzie's old clothing was draped over the chair. The bed had been neatly made, and the pillow lay atop the duvet. Her sword lay across the bed. "Oh bugger..." Jack whispered, and let out a pent-up sigh.

He looked around the room for a surface upon which to write. The dresser was too tall for him to use as a writing desk, and the bedside table was much too low. He went through the empty drawers of the dresser, hoping to find a book. All he found was Lizzie's ruby jewelry. He lifted the earrings and held them up to the light of the nearby window. The rubies sparkled like sangria in the sunlight. "'s a shame I never got to see her wear these..." he mused quietly. Almost of its own accord, his hand slipped the earrings into his pants pocket. "No, mate, not from her..." Jack muttered as he pulled out the earrings. He placed them carefully back in the drawer and closed it.

Jack removed one of the empty dresser drawers, and turned it upside down. "Voila! One lap desk!" He sat down on the bed with the drawer across his knees, placed the paper on the bottom of the drawer, and took up the charcoal twig. After touching the tip to his tongue to moisten it, he put it to the paper. He wrote _"Wench"_, thought for a moment, and crossed it out. He tried _"Woman"_, then just _"Lizzie"_, but crossed those out as well. _"Dear"_ was scribbled out. Finally he wrote _"My dearest Lizzie"_. He started to cross that out too but stopped. His head tilted from side to side as he debated with himself. Then his hand moved down to the next line.

The charcoal remained motionless for several minutes as Jack tried to formulate the next sentence. He finally touched the charcoal to the paper, shook his head as he lifted his hand, and thought for a few more moments. He repeated the sequence several times, but never left a mark. He eventually put the charcoal down and moved the drawer from his lap to the bed.

"Bugger! This is a bad time to get writer's block!" he complained to himself. "They'll be back by dinner time. I've got to finish this and be gone before then!" A yawn escaped him. "I just need to focus my thoughts. Too much stress and strain makes it hard for a man to concentrate!" His gaze fell on the bathtub.

"Oh, now, _there's_ a splendid idea! A soak in the tub will be just the thing to help me think clearly. I may not see a bath tub again for years; might as well take advantage while I can!" He laid all his weapons on the bed and began unfastening belts. His hat, jacket and vest came off next, followed by his boots, shirt and pants. Finally he untied the scarf around his head and laid it across his clothing. When he was wearing nothing but the lace on his wrist and the leather palm guards, he closed the drain and began pumping water into the tub.

Downstairs in the inn's main room, Phillip heard the water running from the room above his head and smiled to himself.

* * *

Jack dipped a foot gingerly into the steaming water. "Ouch!" he yelped and jerked his foot back. "Don't wanna parboil anything important," he commented to the empty room as he sat on the bed. "I'll just wait a bit..." He leaned against the headboard, stretched out his legs between his clothes and his weapons, and pulled the drawer closer. He spent the next few minutes pondering the letter, but wrote nothing more. He yawned again, and his chin dipped to his chest. He shook his head to clear it, got up and checked the temperature of the bath. "Perfect!" he exclaimed as he eased himself into the tub.

"Ahhh!" He leaned back against the bath tub with his arms resting on the sides. "It's a good thing I'm leaving—a man could get too used to this sort of thing!" He yawned again. "I'll just soak for a few minutes until I'm refreshed, and then I'll finish that letter and be gone." His head tipped back over the end of the tub and he began to snore.

* * *


	89. Chapter 89 Jesting and Questions

_**CH 89 Jesting and Questions  
**_

"Lizzie, I hope you won't think me rude for asking a personal question. If you feel that I'm prying, just tell me." The two women walked slowly down the cart road toward the inn, arms laden with packages.

Lizzie turned her head toward the other woman. "What is it that you want to know, Allie?"

"Are you going to trim the hair on that wart before it becomes a beard?"

Lizzie whooped in surprise, and began to laugh so hard that she had to put down her packages. She leaned against a tree next to the road, trying to catch her breath.

"No, I think I'm going to braid it and put a bead or two on it!" Then it was Allie's turn to laugh until she was wheezing.

"And say hello to your father the gov'nor for me the next time that you see him!" Allie gasped between giggles.

"I certainly will." Lizzie said, suddenly serious.

"What?" Allie's laughter was cut off by her squeaked question. She stared at Lizzie, bewildered.

"I said that I will." Lizzie replied.

Allie shook her head and chuckled. "It's no wonder Jack took a fancy to you! Your sense of humor is just as half-cocked as his!"

"You don't believe me?" Lizzie asked.

Allie frowned. She looked around quickly and lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "You'd best be making sport with me, Lizzie. The worst place the daughter of the governor could be is on Tortuga, with or without a pirate captain husband. She'd be a target for anyone who was an enemy of the governor, and that includes nearly every man who steps off a ship in this harbor. Her life would be in terrible danger!"

Lizzie swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes, of course I was only trifling…" Her voice was quiet; she tried to force a smile but it didn't feel very convincing. Allie continued to frown.

"I should hope so! Mind that you don't say anything like that where someone else might hear you! You would bring more trouble down on your head than you could ever imagine!"

They were quiet for a few moments. Then, without a word, both women picked up their packages and continued walking.

* * *

After a long period of silence, Allie spoke. "May I ask you another question, Lizzie?"

"Yes, of course."

"Where ever did you get the gold to buy all of this?"

Lizzie thought for a moment. She decided it would be safe to tell Allie a small bit of the story. "The Pearl came across an old sunken ship, and it had treasure aboard."

"How much?"

"A lot."

"Is the whole crew carrying around as much gold as you are?"

Lizzie grunted as she kicked a rock in the road. "Yes, I'd imagine none of them left all of their gold on the ship."

"Oh, dear… when word gets around that the whole crew of the Pearl is flush with gold, none of you will be safe! Ow!" Allie tripped on a tree root that poked up into the path. She caught herself, and managed to hold onto her packages which included the jars of herbs. She stopped to readjust her burden. She tilted her head curiously and turned to look behind her. "Wonderful!" she said, smiling. "Stop, Lizzie!"

Lizzie halted and turned around. In the distance, a donkey cart clattered down the road toward the two women. When it got near enough, Allie smiled and addressed the cart's driver. "Good day, Farmer James!"

The wrinkled old man pulled the reins to stop the donkey. He touched the brim of his hat in greeting. "Widow Sparrow! Looks like you've bought out the town!"

Allie smiled at him. "No, not me, my cousin Les here. Reprovisioning her, I mean his ship."

The man nodded genially at Lizzie. "Ah, I see! 'Ello, young sir!" He turned back to Allie. "I'm on m'way back from taking some things from Molly's garden to the market. Can I offer the both of ye a ride?"

"That would be lovely! Thank you!" Allie and Lizzie piled the packages into the cart, and sat on the back edge, feet dangling. The farmer slapped the reins across the donkey's rump, and the cart began rattling noisily along the bumpy road.

"Do we dare talk here?" Lizzie whispered to Allie.

Allie whispered back. "Aye, if we're quiet. I'm sure he can't hear us over the sounds of the cart wheels."

"Well, the crew will have to take care of themselves. I would think that they understand the risk of having that much gold on their persons."

"What about you and Jack?"

"We're not carrying much."

"Not _much_?" Allies voice cracked as she tried to keep it hushed. "You spent more money on that dress than I've seen in the entire last seven years!"

Lizzie suddenly felt terrible. She'd been unthinkingly flaunting her wealth in front of a woman who'd been living in hardship.

"Allie…" Lizzie wasn't sure what to say. She looked at Allie sadly. "I didn't mean…"

"No, no, it's alright. I chose this life, and it's not so bad. And I wasn't exactly telling the truth anyway."

Lizzie's eyebrows raised but she said nothing.

"Steven's mum raised her boys up with a head full of odd notions. Apparently where she was from, the custom was that if a married man died, the oldest unwed brother should marry the dead brother's widow. After Steven was killed, Jack offered to marry me. I'm certain he was relieved when I said no, but it was a sweet gesture."

Lizzie's eyes grew wide. Allie went on. "Don't worry. He never courted me, nothing like that. It was all very awkward. I think it would have only been a marriage of convenience, or for him, inconvenience." She laughed. Lizzie didn't.

"But my refusal didn't end his feeling of responsibility for us. Da started coming home on leave always flush with gold. He said the Pearl had been taking lots of prize ships of late. He'd pay up my creditors, buy things to restock and repair the inn, and so on. When Jack died and the money suddenly stopped coming, I realized it had been him sending it. Da finally admitted it last night. Jack had still felt obligated to care for us despite my refusal to wed him." She paused for breath.

Lizzie took the opportunity. "May I ask you a question?"

"It's only fair," Allie replied.

"Why haven't you wed again?"

Allie sighed heavily. "Lizzie, I've given it a lot of thought. Several of the islanders came to court me early on, but they all wanted me to sell the inn and just be a farm wife. No one's come 'round courting me in years. It's just as well, I suppose. I've put too much of myself into the Rose and Ivy to give it up now." She shook her head slowly.

"Quite frankly, Lizzie, the inn barely supports us. Jack's money is truly all that kept us out of the poorhouse… or the whorehouse. But I've made my choice and I'm not ready to give up on it yet. No one on this island thinks a woman can or should run an inn. I know I can do it. I just need to find a way to bring in more customers without turning it into a brothel like every other inn on the island."

Lizzie looked at her booted feet, swinging from the back of the cart. "Allie, would you let me help you? I've got more money than I'll ever need."

Allie shook her head. "Thank you, Lizzie. But I really don't want anyone's charity. I want to support myself and my girls on my own—I don't want to be beholden to anyone. I'm still angry that Jack and Da kept what they were doing from me for so long."

"Well then, if there's any other way I can help you, please don't hesitate to ask me! I'll do anything I can."

Allie smiled at Lizzie, a deep, heartfelt smile that made her face fairly glow. "I'm going to hold you to that promise, dear sister-in-law!" She squeezed Lizzie's hand tightly.

The cart slowed, and then stopped. "Here ye are, home again!"

Allie thanked Farmer James as Lizzie began removing packages from the cart. Allie took the rest, and they climbed the stone steps that led to the inn.


	90. Chapter 90 Deliberations & Interruptions

_**CH 90 Deliberations and Interruptions  
**_

Inside the inn, Allie followed Lizzie upstairs, still carrying half of the packages. As they reached the door to Lizzie's room, the muffled sounds of an argument came from the kitchen below. "I'm going to tell Mama!" Sam scolded at the top of her lungs.

Allie heaved an annoyed sigh. "Oh, what has she done now? Here, take these. I'll open the door for you." She piled her armful of packages on top of those Lizzie already carried. Reaching around Lizzie, she turned the doorknob just until it clicked open and then hurried downstairs.

Unable to see over the load she was carrying, Lizzie bumped the door open with her hip. She backed into the room, turned around and kicked the door closed with her heel. As the door slammed, loud snorting and splashing erupted from the bath tub. Lizzie jumped in alarm; her hat fell off, and several of the precariously balanced parcels leapt from her grasp and skittered across the floor. She gasped as the box of glass jars toppled from her arms, and breathed a sigh of relief as it landed safely on top of the new pillows.

When she looked up, she saw Jack flailing around, sloshing water all over the floor as he tried to get out of the tub. He gained his footing, ran to the bed and seized his gun.

"Don't shoot! It's me!" Lizzie cried.

Jack's eyes focused on her. "Oh, right." His eyes widened. "Sh—bugger! It _is_ you!" He lowered the gun, and looked about with a confused expression. He noticed the puddle of water pooling around his feet and the trail of wet footprints leading from the tub. He glanced at the window. "It's past noon! Oh, not good..." he moaned.

"What are you doing here?" Lizzie asked as she set the rest of her packages on the floor.

"I was…meditating… in a nice hot bath, until you came bursting in making enough noise to wake the dead and rudely interrupted me!" Jack snapped. He put the gun on the bed and returned to the tub to take a towel from the shelf.

"I had no idea you'd be in here, or I would have knocked first!" Lizzie snapped back. She looked more closely at her husband and chuckled. "How long have you been in the tub, Jack? The skin on your feet is wrinkled up like a raisin!" She walked to the tub and touched the water with a finger. "It's cold!" She tugged the chain that pulled out the drain plug.

"Must've dozed off..." Jack mumbled as he dried himself with the towel.

Lizzie noticed the overturned dresser drawer lying on the bed. "Why is that there?" She approached it to take a closer look. Jack moved to intercept her, but she got to it first.

Lizzie picked up the paper from the makeshift lap desk and looked at it, turning away to keep Jack from snatching it out of her hands. Tilting it this way and that to decipher the words that had been crossed out, she read out loud, "Wench. Woman. Lizzie. Dear. My dearest Lizzie..." She turned to Jack. "What _is_ this?"

Jack looked away. He continued to dry himself, ignoring her question.

"Jack? What were you writing?"

He dropped the towel to the floor, picked up his pants and pulled them on. Lizzie tried again.

"Jack?"

"It can wait until I'm dressed, savvy?"

Lizzie stepped in front of him and grasped his arm. "Jack, please!"

Jack lifted her hand from his arm and dropped it. "I'm leaving." His voice was very quiet. He began to button the pants.

Lizzie replied instantly. "It'll just take me a moment to gather up these packages and return Allie's clothing. I'll be ready to go by the time you're dressed."

"No. You're staying here." Jack didn't look at her.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Lizzie..." He paused and took a deep breath, still looking away from her. "This isn't going to work out, you and me, me and you. You'd be better off with someone you trust, someone who can give you a stable life and toe the line for you all the time."

"Whatever are you talking about, Jack?"

"You want to know every little thing I'm going to do, where I'll be, when I'll be back. You criticize how I spend my time. You expect too much of me. You want me to give up everything that I am, and sit at your feet like a pet dog for all eternity. I can't live that way, Lizzie. I'm leaving. You're free to find someone else."

"Jack! No!" Lizzie swallowed hard to prevent a sob from escaping. She waved her hands frantically. "Wait! Please, let me try again to explain. I certainly don't expect you to give up who you are! If you'd only told me you'd be returning late because you planned to play cards after your business was finished, I wouldn't have worried. Well, perhaps not quite as much, at least... When I came to find you, you were less than happy to see me. I wouldn't have disturbed you if I'd only had some idea of your plans. But you didn't see fit to trust me with them, so here we are."

"It's not my habit to tell anyone where I'll be or what I'll be doing at a specific time. Not good practice for a pirate, savvy? And worrying about a pirate--any pirate--is a waste of time, love."

"I can't help it. I know you said either of us might die at any time, but I'm very much afraid that I'll lose you. I'm... I'm not prepared for that. I know I couldn't be strong like Allie if..." She bit her lip and shook her head quickly to clear her thoughts. "If I know where you _should_ be, I might not worry so much. But if I don't know where to find you... how can I...? Well... as I see it, now that I'm your wife the Pirate Code doesn't apply to me any longer."

"Do tell?" Jack raised an eyebrow and stared intently at Lizzie.

"If you fall behind, I'm coming back for you."

* * *

Jack shook his head, scattering water droplets from the ends of his hair. "Very bad idea, Lizzie, putting your self into danger for me."

"Would you not do the same for me? Suppose I went out at noon on what you thought was to be a short errand and failed to come back by supper. How long would you wait before you went looking for me?"

"This is Tortuga, love. You'd not be going into town alone." He paused and pulled a face. "At least not twice..."

She frowned. "Well, suppose I did, and didn't return. How long would you wait?"

Jack smirked. "Oh, a couple of days, a week perhaps..." Lizzie's mouth dropped open in protest. Before she could speak, he winked and added, "Alright, you've made your point." He became serious again. "But I won't live my life on a tether, waiting for you to grant me permission to leave your sight."

"That's not what I want, Jack! That's not what I'd expect from you!"

So...what is it that you do expect from me?"

"I trust that you will honor our vows wherever you are. In return, I want you to trust me enough to tell me the truth about your plans and intentions. Don't lie, don't dissemble, just be honest with me."

"So simply telling you what I intended to do yesterday would have satisfied you?"

Lizzie nodded. "I still would have missed you; that wouldn't have changed. I still would have worried about you until you returned. But I wouldn't have been so mad with concern that I went looking for you—at least not so soon."

Jack shook his head slowly. "No…if I told you straight out that I was going to gamble and drink with the lads in a whorehouse, you'd run me through!"

"What makes you think that?"

"That's what any woman would do!"

"I wouldn't."

Jack's eyes opened wide in surprise. "What _would_ you do?"

Lizzie was quiet for a moment as she considered her reply. "I can't say I'd be happy with your choice of pastimes. I'd like it much better if you preferred to spend your time with me. But I wouldn't try to stop you from going. I understand that I have to fit into your established life, as would any new wife into her new husband's. I just don't want to be an afterthought in that life. Is that too much to ask?" Before Jack could answer, she went on.

"And Jack, I'm very sorry I doubted you last night. I was wrong. Do you think you can ever forgive me?"

"Lizzie, you are a wonder!" Jack's smile briefly shone golden in the afternoon light. Then his face fell. "But I still have to leave..."

"Why?" Lizzie fairly shouted the question.

"If you stay aboard the Pearl, you'll not have children. I saw you with Bobby earlier; you'd be a good mum. It's not right for me to take that from you."

Lizzie took a step toward Jack and put her hand over his mouth. "Shh! Stop there. Just because I like children and I'm fond of Allie's girls doesn't mean I'm pining to have one of my own. If I'd wanted to stay ashore and be a mother...well, I took a miss on that opportunity twice, didn't I?" She pulled her hand away and waited for his reply.

"I'm only trying to give you a chance..."

"I think you're looking for excuses, Jack. If you really don't want to stay with me, then just go. Is that what you want to do?"

Jack blinked. "I... No."

"Then will you stay? No, do you _want_ to stay?" Lizzie's eyebrows were raised in apprehension as she looked into Jack's eyes.

He lifted his chin a little higher and looked down at her past his nose. Suspicion clouded his features. "Aye, I do. But do you still intend to build a bed under the stairs when we get back to the ship?"

Lizzie smiled in happy relief. "No, I don't believe I'll need it."

The suspicion on his face vanished and was replaced by a wide grin.

* * *

Jack reached for her and kissed her hair as he pulled her close. She whispered into his chest, "I've missed you so... I love you, Jack."

Jack made a sound in his throat that might have been a purr or a growl. His fingers traced a line from her back up to her neck. He gently raised her chin until she looked up at him. He was smiling, not the usual Jack Sparrow smirk but a smile of genuine happiness as he bent to kiss her.

His kisses were gentle, almost innocently sweet; at first Lizzie felt like she was kissing someone other than Jack. One of her hands twined through his damp hair; the other rested lightly on his bare chest, feeling the scars and muscles under her fingertips. The kisses became more familiarly ardent and urgent. A shiver of desire ran through Lizzie as she felt his body respond, pressing his growing hardness against her belly.

Jack's fingers unbuttoned her vest and dropped it off her shoulders to the floor. Lizzie pulled away just long enough to unlace her shirt, tug it off over her head and toss it aside. She reached for her husband and pressed her bare skin against his as she sought his lips with her own.

Jack's hands wandered down Lizzie's back and pulled her hips tight against him.

"I…need… you," he murmured between kisses. The tip of her tongue snaked out and tickled across his lips in answer. He moaned and began to walk Lizzie slowly backward toward the bed until she bumped into it. She sank back across it, pulling Jack down on top of her. They shoved weapons, belts and clothing out of the way, never breaking the kiss.

A loud knock on the door accompanied Allie's voice. "Lizzie, dinner's ready!"

* * *


	91. Chapter 91 Diversions and Distractions

A/N: Dear reader;

This is a chapter that I think most of you will enjoy, unless you're under 16 or my mother-in-law. If you are either of those, you must leave now and go away until chapter 92. Go on, shoo now!

_**CH 91 Diversions and Distractions**_

Lizzie flinched at the sound of the knock. Before she could respond, Jack slid his tongue between her teeth and thrust evocatively. Sparks flowed through her veins as her body agreed to the unspoken suggestion. Wild, uncontrollable desire obliterated any thought of the momentary distraction. Her hands explored his bare back, still damp with bath water. When they found the waistband of his pants, a gentle tug informed her that he hadn't buttoned them fully. She slipped her hands inside and cupped them around his hard muscled buttocks, pulling him against her.

Jack needed no further encouragement. Without a word he pulled away and rolled to one side. His deft fingers unbuttoned her trousers and pushed them down to her knees. Her boots stopped him there, but with some effort, Lizzie kicked them off and let the pants fall to the floor.

She unfastened the rest of his fly buttons and released him from the confining fabric. Jack let out a hiss of pleasure as her fingers caressed his length. He reached to his waist and pushed his trousers down out of his way. Then his hand trailed up Lizzie's bare leg, fingers swirling gently through the curls of hair where her thighs met. Lizzie gasped with desire; her legs spread apart almost of their own accord.

Jack moved his body atop Lizzie's. She ran her hands down his back and pulled him toward her. He didn't need to be told twice. He moaned loudly as he plunged into her. Lizzie wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper and eliciting more moans.

"Lizzie! Are you all right?" called Allie. She knocked again. "Lizzie? Lizzie!"

Startled, Lizzie squeaked out "Allie, no!" as she heard the doorknob click. At the same instant, Sam's voice floated up from the bottom of the stairs. "Mama, don't go in there! Uncle Jack's taking a bath!"

It was too late. Allie stepped into the room. She was immediately faced with the sight of Jack's muscular tattooed rear thrusting rhythmically, trousers around his knees, Lizzie's bare legs wrapped around his waist.

Allie shrieked and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh dear heavens, I'm so sorry! I had no idea! I'm so, so sorry!" She backed out of the room and slammed the door, apologizing over and over. She continued to emphatically declare her contrition all the way down the hall. As her voice faded away, her apologies were replaced with peals of laughter.

Lizzie moaned, "Oh, no!" as she covered her face with her hands.

Jack mumbled, "Did you hear somethin'?"

Lizzie lowered her legs. "Allie saw us! Oh, I'm so embarrassed! I won't ever be able to look her in the face again!"

Lost in sensation, Jack never stopped moving as he murmured into Lizzie's ear. "D'ye recall… that phrase… 'actions, not words'? _Now…_ would be… a _very_ good time… to put it into practice..." He nibbled on her neck and ear between words as he reached for her legs, encouraging her to put them up again.

Still embarrassed by Allie's interruption, Lizzie felt awkward. Her legs stiffened in response to his touch and refused to move.

"Come back to me, love..." Jack whispered. His fingers traced slow circles around one of her soft, brown nipples. It responded by tightening up, begging for more. Lizzie inhaled hard at the sensation. Jack lowered his mouth to her breast and sucked for a moment, teasing the hard nipple with the tip of his tongue. The moan this invoked from Lizzie made him smile. "Tha's the way..." His fingers drifted down until they found the soft curls of her hair. But the placement of his body and his reluctance to give up his position kept them from reaching the treasure they sought. Lizzie groaned in frustration.

"Hold on to me!" Jack said, as he pulled himself free of her. He reached under her and took hold of her hips. Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck. In one swift movement, Jack rolled onto his back, still holding onto Lizzie. She suddenly found herself lying on top of him. He smiled up at her. "Let's try something... sit up."

Lizzie pushed herself up to a kneeling position straddling Jack's stomach, one leg on each side of him. She didn't need any more instruction as the intent immediately became obvious. She sank down until she felt the heat of Jack's hardness against her. She lowered herself down onto him, engulfing him. A groan escaped him as she began to move. "Yes! Oh, yes!" He moved his hips upward, driving deeper into her than ever before.

He ran his hands over her body, fondling and caressing. One thumb and finger grasped her nipple and squeezed gently, causing Lizzie to gasp as her body involuntarily clenched tighter around him. He slipped his other hand in between them and his fingers found what he sought. Soon she was bucking against his hand and moaning his name. Jack watched her, enjoying her reactions to his touches. He gasped out, "I can't... pull away... like this. You'll have to... move... when I say…" His head tilted back and his eyes closed as his own pleasure began to build.

Lost in passion, it took Lizzie a moment to process what he had said. The thought of him fountaining inside of her, of experiencing what that felt like, pushed her over the edge. She screamed out his name over and over as wave after wave of delicious ecstasy rocked her.

Jack moved beneath her, breathing hard and moaning. As Lizzie came down from her peak, Jack reached his. He seized her hips, pushed upward and grunted "Now!" Lizzie rose up on her knees and he was pulled free of her. He cried out as spasms of pleasure pulsed through his body. Lizzie felt heat on her skin as his seed spurted against her thigh. He twitched and moved under her until the sensations faded away and he took a deep, satisfied breath.

* * *

He opened his eyes to see her smiling down at him, a small, secretive smile.

"You look like the cat that got the cream! What are you thinking?"

"I got some of those herbs you mentioned…" As she spoke, Lizzie lay down and curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder.

"Do tell!" Jack wrapped his arm around her.

"Allie took me to the apothecary this morning. I can start taking them today."

"Mmmmm..." Jack smiled. "That can't happen too soon…"

Lizzie propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at their bodies. Sunlight reflected off droplets and small pools on Jack's stomach and her legs. "I agree!" She kissed him meaningfully. "For more than one reason!"

* * *

Some time later, Jack and Lizzie made their way downstairs. Allie was behind the bar in the dining room. The girls were seated at a table, finishing their dinner meal. Lizzie blushed furiously as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

Allie smiled at them. She addressed Jack first. "I'm terribly sorry about the interruption! No one saw fit to tell me that you'd come back." She cast a sideways glance at Bobbie and Sam. They avoided her gaze. To Lizzie, she said with a wink and a grin, "I'm glad to see that you two are talking again! You _did_ talk first, didn't you?" Lizzie's blush deepened to scarlet. Allie went on, still grinning. "I must admit, I had never wanted to see my brother-in-law and his wife procreating...I'm sure I'll have nightmares now!"

"You're just jealous!" Jack retorted with a wicked smile. Lizzie thought her face would melt from the heat of all the blushing.

"Well, it has been a long time…" Allie responded, looking at the ceiling. Her face turned a pretty shade of pink.

"What's procre...procreating?" asked Bobby.

"That's what the goats were doing last week," Sam replied pragmatically.

Bobby looked quizzically at Jack and Lizzie. "Why were you trying to make a baby goat?"


	92. Chapter 92 Strays and Stories

_**Ch 92 Strays and Stories**_

"If you're jealous, Allie, why don't you get married again? That'd solve several problems at once, savvy?" Jack's smile and flippant tone belied the earnest intent of the question. He pulled a chair away from the table and spun it around. Throwing a leg over it, he seated himself, resting his crossed forearms on the chair's back. He plunked his chin down over his wrists and looked at Allie questioningly. "Well, I'm right, and you know it!"

Allie laughed. "You should know better! The only things I really need a man for around here is heavy lifting and dirty work! And for that, I've got the miller's boy, Thomas. When he comes by to deliver barrels of flour I put him to work. His mum died, and his sister can't cook worth a brass farthing. He hauls wood and mucks out my animal pens in exchange for decent meals!"

Jack grimaced and became serious. Crossing his arms over his chest, he spoke in a firm tone. "Allie, you need to stop takin' care of every stray that crosses your doorstep and look out for yourself. The girls--"

Allie cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I know, I know, the girls need a father. I've heard it before, and not just from you." She glanced at her own father, who rolled his eyes upward in mock innocence.

"But Tortuga isn't likely to be coughin' one up any time soon. My choices here are slim, Jack---pirates, or farmers. No offense to your profession, but I won't marry another man of the sea, be 'e pirate, or Navy, or honest merchant. I had my fill of sailing long ago. Were I to wed again, I won't have a man who'll be gone to sea for years at a time." She smiled sadly at Jack.

"The locals are all good men, but a dull lot to the last. A few of the island's widowers came courtin' me the first few years." She laughed, a sharp, harsh laugh. As she continued, her voice sounded strained and her accent thickened. "Their idea o'courtship was to knock on m' door, tell me their wife had died, and inquire would I marry them so their little children would have a mother. Nary so much as a 'Nice weather we're having'! It was as if they were arrangin' to buy a new cow to replace their old one!"

She shook her head in disbelief. "I was desperate enough to consider the first one what offered, until I spent a bit more time with 'im. He wanted me to sell the inn and simply be a farmer's wife were I to wed 'em. It's not seemly for a woman to own a business, he said. I politely declined 'is offer. After that, as others came, I asked them 'ow they felt about me keepin' the inn. They all said the same thing—I'd have to sell it. I refused 'em all, until they finally stopped comin'."

She paused, searching for words. "This is my ship, Jack, my Polaris, my Black Pearl. I've put my soul into this place for seven years now, and it's my home. Unless the sea spits a landlubber out on my doorstep, I'm as good as married to the Rose and Ivy." Allie patted the polished bar with her fingers. She looked around the dining room, and quiet pride radiated from her features.

Her voice softened as she focused her gaze on Jack. "I know you want us to be safe and cared for, Jack. But I've seen enough of life to know exactly what I want from it. I won't settle for anything less. I won't sell my happiness just to be safe. I'm sure you, of all people, understand the value of freedom." She looked Jack squarely in the eyes as she said the last. After a moment he slowly nodded in agreement.

Allie acknowledged his unspoken reply with a dip of her chin. She fiddled with her hair, took a deep breath and went on.

"As for 'strays'—this may be hard for ye to follow Jack, bein' a pirate and all. But it wasn't that long ago that I washed ashore here. I was seven months pregnant and newly widowed with a six year old daughter at my side and no home to return to. I was the stray in Voute L'Eglise on the other side of this island for a long time before I found m'feet, Jack. Weren't it for the kindness of the people who live on this godforsaken piece of rock, I'd have ended up workin' in a brothel to feed my girls. And by now Sam would've been workin' in one as well. So I help out others when I can. It's my way of payin' back what folks did for me then."

She shook her head as if to clear it and stood up a bit straighter. "Let me get you two some dinner. I'm sure you worked up an appetite! Sam, Bobby, come along and bring your dishes!" She winked and smiled over her shoulder as she left the room followed by the girls. Phillip rose and left with them.

* * *

When they were gone, Jack stood and walked to the window that looked out onto the rose garden. Lizzie joined him. His expression was somber, and his eyes betrayed his distant thoughts.

"Jack?" She touched his shoulder.

He sighed. "I can't help but be concerned for them. They remind me so strongly of... him. Every time I come here, I can't stop thinking about him."

Now Lizzie knew who he meant. She took his hand and held it in her own. He squeezed her hand gently as they stood silently side by side looking out at the garden.

* * *

"Here you are!" Allie announced as she entered carrying two steaming bowls. Jack plucked his hand away from Lizzie's as if he'd been caught picking a pocket. As he turned away from the window, Lizzie saw him force himself to smile.

Allie indicated that Jack and Lizzie should sit down, and placed the food in front of them. Bobby brought in a plate with bread and butter, and Sam carried another plate with some sliced fruit. Phillip came in a moment later, "Robinson Crusoe" in his hand. "I found it—it was under my bed." Sam shot a murderous look at Bobby who responded with a poorly stifled giggle. Phillip handed the book to Sam and pulled up a chair at the table. The girls took seats on each side of their aunt and uncle.

Jack and Lizzie made short work of the food. Bobby kept up a running commentary while they ate, telling them how she had helped to grow the vegetables, pick the fruit, feed the goat, churn the butter and prepare the bread. By the time her aunt and uncle were finished eating, they could have recited the pedigree of each ingredient in the meal. When they put down their spoons, Allie cleared away the dishes while Bobby chattered amiably at Jack and Lizzie. She returned from the kitchen some time later.

"There, the dishes are done!" As she went behind the bar, she addressed Jack. "I've got a special surprise for you, but you're going to have to work for it."

Jack eyed her suspiciously. "And assuming that said surprise is something that I would want, pray tell what, exactly, would I have to do to be deemed worthy to receive it?"

"I want to hear about everything that's happened since you met Lizzie, from the very beginning right up to the wedding!" She ducked down behind the bar, and started rummaging through a shelf. Bottles clinked and mugs rattled.

"That's going to take a lot of rum…" Jack warned her.

"Ah, here it is!" Allie's voice floated up from below the bar. "I have something _better_!" She stood up and waved something in the air. In her hand was an extremely dusty bottle. An ornate design with gold lettering was painted on the front and a large wax seal covered the neck. "I don't have a lot of this, but will it suffice?"

Jack's eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up under the edge of his scarf. A smile spread across his face. "Suffice? That'll more than suffice! Aged rum is rare treasure indeed! There's only one distillery in all the world that makes it, in a French colony in South America. By French law, all the aged rum produced there belongs to the king of France! Being neither French nor a king, how did _you_ come to have _that_?"

Allie laughed. "An ignorant pirate crew took a Brazilian ship bound for France a few years back. The ship's bounty included several cases of this. The dolts didn't know what they had, and nobody told them. They were selling it for just twice the price of the local rotgut, and only because of the fancy seal and label. It's easily worth ten times that. I managed to buy one bottle, all I could afford at the time. I thought it would be nice to have here for a special occasion…a wedding, perhaps."

She smiled and looked wistfully at the bottle. With a wink at Jack, she said, "This story had best be really good!"

* * *

Jack reached for the bottle as soon as Allie placed it on the table.

"You _are_ going to share that, aren't you?" Despite her phrasing, Allie's words were a statement, not a query.

"Do I have to?" Holding the bottle possessively, Jack answered her question with a question. The stern glare he received in reply gave him his answer. He reluctantly put the bottle down but kept his hand on it until Allie had brought six small glasses from behind the bar. She ceremoniously broke the wax that sealed the cork and uncorked the bottle with a tiny knife. She passed the cork to Jack. Holding it to his nose, he inhaled deeply and sighed, "Ah, ambrosia!"

Bobby took the cork and cautiously smelled it. "Ewww!"

Allie laughed. "All the more for the rest o'us! Sam?" she queried, gesturing at the cork.

Sam sniffed it gingerly and wrinkled her nose. "No thank you, mama."

"You would have given this one rum? Startin' her kind of young, aren't you?" Jack asked, jerking his head toward Bobby.

"I knew she wouldn't drink it, and then I'd have taken it," Allie replied with a smile as she filled four glasses and passed them around.

"Well then, I call dibs on Sam's portion!" Jack laughed. He picked up one of the empty glasses and held it out toward the bottle Allie held. She snatched the glass from him and set it on the bar behind her. "You and Lizzie are the guests of honor tonight. I promise I'll give you a little extra!" She took her seat at the table.

Phillip raised his glass. "Here's a toast to Jack and Lizzie! May your happiness be as deep as the ocean and your troubles as light as its foam." Allie raised her glass as she replied, "Hear, hear!" The small glasses clinked above the table and the two girls clapped their approval. Lizzie took a sip of the aged rum. It tasted vaguely smoky, a little sweet, quite strong and very smooth, not at all like the harsh 'fresh' rum that was commonly available.

Jack noticed Lizzie's approving glance at the glass in her hand. "Don't get too used to it! We'd have to rob the King of France to get more, savvy?"

Lizzie smiled as she replied, "Well if that's all it takes, let's get to it then!"

Jack laughed. He took a sip of the wonderful, rare rum and began describing the day that Lizzie fell from the sky into the sea right in front of him.

* * *


	93. Chapter 93 Into the Locker

A/N:

Dear Reader:

There have been 60,000 visitor hits on this story as of today, and over 5500 of those were just from this month! Thank you! I don't know where you're all coming from so suddenly, but I would love to hear from you!

--AdhesivePrincess

March 19, 2009

* * *

_**CH 93 Into the Locker**_

Lizzie was not surprised to find that Jack was a captivating story teller. He was a natural actor. He paced the floor as he spoke, often crouching, jumping or waving his hands to punctuate the tale. Lizzie, who had accompanied her father to many plays, thought that Jack could have held his own against professional actors on any stage.

He imitated accents when it suited him. His imitation of Barbossa was dead-on, but when he first spoke as Will, his voice was soft and almost girlish. Lizzie caught his eye and scowled. Jack laughed, but he dropped the caricature.

She was still becoming accustomed to actually allowing herself to look directly at him instead of stealing quick, shy glimpses. _It's alright to look at him now, Lizzie; he's your husband…_ As she watched and listened to him, she was struck by Jack's handsome good looks and his talent at spinning a tale. She felt a thrill of newfound pride and delight. _Yes! He is my husband! MY husband! _She realized she was smiling giddily at Jack. He glanced at her and promptly stumbled over his words. He covered up by clearing his throat and making a fuss over needing a drink of the rum. After that, Lizzie noted that he looked her way more often. She continued to smile at him; it felt good.

* * *

As Jack told the story, Lizzie observed that he was leaving out the details of her life prior to being taken by Barbossa's crew. No one listening would have been able to guess that she was anything other than a young commoner woman who had been kidnapped by pirates.

From time to time, Jack encouraged Lizzie to add her own comments and observations. This gave him time to enjoy more of the precious rum. When a part was hers to tell, she tried to make it interesting, but she knew her talent for narration fell far short of his. She was glad when he indicated he was ready to take over the story again.

As the tale unfolded, occasionally someone would interrupt with a question or a comment. Jack would often take off on that new tangent in great detail until someone else stopped him and said, "Get on with the story!" All the while Allie kept shaking her head and saying, "Incredible, simply incredible!"

* * *

After Jack described how he had been reunited with his beloved ship, he skipped ahead, saying "About a year later I encountered those two troublemakers again."

Allie stopped him to ask how he'd spent that year. He shrugged and replied, "A pirate's life, darlin'! Loot, pillage, plunder, drink. Same ship, different day."

With a hearty laugh, Phillip agreed. "Aye, that it was lass, a gleeful pirate's life for us! Navy man that I'd been most o' my life, I must admit I enjoyed the freedom pirating gave me. That is, until I took that fall off the yard and broke m' blasted leg." Glancing at Lizzie, he elaborated. "The next thing I knew I was bein' loaded onto a litter, lowered into a longboat and hauled up 'ere! That one said 'e was puttin' me in drydock until I could get around on both feet again." With a wry smile, he gestured toward Jack with his rum glass.

"Were it not for that fall, I might 'ave been right in the thick of it all when the Pearl went down. As it was, the first I 'eard of any of it was when Gibbs came up 'ere with the news. In one breath 'e told me that Jack was dead. In the next 'e was spoutin' some preposterous idea about goin' down to Davy Jones' Locker to bring 'im back! 'e said the captain o' the vessel they were sailin' claimed to 'ave been brought back from the dead as well! I still don't know 'ow I let m'self be talked into goin' with 'im… it sounds mad even now!"

Chuckling, he put a hand to his mouth. "Oh, beg pardon, Jack! I'm gettin' ahead o' your story. Go on!"

Jack picked up the tale again. After they'd left Phillip in Allie's care, the crew had begun the task of patching up the Pearl, which had suffered from damage and neglect during Barbossa's reign as her captain. They had set out to find somewhere safe and private to careen the ship. But they'd unwittingly chosen as their work site the beach of an island inhabited by cannibals.

Phillip grew pale as Jack described the fate of several of the crew. Noticing his grim expression, Jack remarked, "Ye wouldn't have had cause to worry, Wightman. They took the youngest and most tender first, and left the old and the flawed for last. Just ask Gibbs and Cotton! But they got the notion that I was a god. It was working to my good, until they decided I needed to be freed from my mortal flesh to reach my full godlike potential… Luckily for me, the whelp showed up right about then, lookin' for my help to save his affianced from a premature death."

He jerked a thumb toward Lizzie and winked at her. "His timely appearance gave me a chance to scuttle the natives' dinner plans. He did prove useful from time to time!"

Allie squealed in delight. "There 'e is again! We keep hearin' hints about this former fiance' o' hers. Lizzie, I want to hear more! Did you throw 'im over for Jack?"

Lizzie sputtered and began try to turn Allie away from the topic, but Jack was faster. With a laugh he replied, "I see you haven't lost your love of gossip! Her former betrothed was Bootstrap Bill's only pup, the very same 'Will' who has played a modest part in the tale thus far. He was a blacksmith's apprentice, nothin' much to look at. I never could discern what she saw in him." He grinned wickedly at Lizzie. "Not a very astute lad, but at least he knew which end of a sword to hold. He was surely a eunuch though. After she spent some time in the company of a real man," he chuckled and tapped his chest, "and learned how to tell the difference, he gave her up without a fight." Allie giggled.

Lizzie felt her cheeks burn as she blushed. _Oh Jack, if you had heard what he said when he left me, you'd have killed him in Singapore._

_

* * *

  
_

Sweat beaded on Lizzie's forehead as Jack described the events that led up to the Kraken's final attack on the Pearl. Her mouth grew dry and she found it hard to swallow. She dug her nails into her palms and waited. _How will he describe my betrayal?_ _How will they react?_ This time Jack surprised her.

He paused to gather his thoughts, tapping his lips with a forefinger as he rested his chin on his thumb. "The beastie was only after me. I had _already_ decided to remain behind so's to let the rest of the crew get away. Someone else provided another very convincing reason for me to stay."

The din of her own blood rushing through her veins drowned out his next words.

_Oh, dear God…_ _He would have stayed behind even if I hadn't…_ Her eyes began to burn. She swallowed hard and inhaled, prepared to apologize all over again. She met his eyes with a teary gaze. A hint of smile curved his lips. He blinked slowly and nodded his head almost imperceptibly, then raised his chin to look at her from under half-closed lids. It brought to her mind the moment that he had first called her a pirate. It was the last time she had seen him alive. Sudden awareness filled her. _Even then, he understood why I did it…_ The tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

Someone touched her. Blinking hard, Lizzie turned to see Allie's hand on her forearm. She whispered, "It's alright, Lizzie. You didn't lose 'im forever. He's back with us now." Lizzie was glad that Allie didn't know the real reason for her tears. She became aware that Jack was speaking again. She gave Allie a weak smile and forced herself to focus on what he was saying.

"…I brandished my sword and charged down the stinking gullet of the foul creature. My last wish was that Captain Jack Sparrow's first and last heroic deed would be immortalized in song and story!" He laughed, but took several slow, thoughtful draughts of the expensive rum before he went on speaking.

* * *

He began again, "First thing I did when I was free of the Locker was--"

"Wait, Uncle Jack!" Bobby waved her hand to get his attention. "What was it like to be dead?"

Jack's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head this way and that as he contemplated his reply. "That's the thing, lass. I'm not at all certain. After the beastie's jaws closed, everything took on the character of a very extremely bad dream. But I still had m'own body, my clothes, my effects. I might have been dead or simply…transported."

"Transported to where?" Bobby asked. "Davy Jones Locker, I know, but where is that?"

Phillip answered her. "It's beyond the edge of the world."

Sam laughed. "But grandpapa, the world is round! There is no edge!'

"Oh there's edges, all right. But they're not edges just anybody can see. I din't believe in magic before I went on that voyage, but I surely do now! Barbossa 'ad a voodoo witch aboard 'is ship. There was somethin' uncanny about 'er. Ooooh, just rememberin' that woman gives me gooseflesh." Phillip rubbed his arms.

"She claimed that she'd lead us to what she called the worlds end, an' that'd be where we'd find Jack. We left from Hispanolia with a double crew so's to bring back the Pearl if we found 'er. Barbossa 'ad 'is own navigator, but I charted our course as well, for my own amusement. We 'ad been at sea for just about three weeks. My declination maps and compass said we were almost upon the agonic line off the west coast of Bermuda. Just like that there was an enormous… hole… in the water right in front of us. I'd sailed those waters a thousand times and never saw anythin' like that! Part of the sea was just—missing! Had we changed course, we could ha' sailed around it. I could see the horizon beyond on each side. But I couldn't see directly across for the mists risin' out o' it."

Jack looked at him with interest. "The line of no variation just west of Bermuda, you say? Go on, Wightman. I've not heard this part m'self!"

* * *

Phillip nodded. "The witch told Cap'n Barbossa to maintain 'is course. 'e made straight for it and sent the ship right over the edge. As the bow tipped, we were certain we were headed for our doom. You never 'eard such screamin'! Even the nonbelievers aboard were prayin'! The stern flipped up like the bottom of a divin' duck, and next thing we knew, we were sailin' straight down! We couldn't see a thing for all the mist and spray, but we were afloat, not fallin'. And while I could still stand up and walk on the deck, it felt wrong, as if I was walkin' on a wall."

He held out a hand and used two fingers to mimic walking on the table top. Then he walked the fingers up the side of his glass. "After a time the water smoothed out and the mists died away. We could see and feel that we were sailin' the right way up again on smooth waters, the way a ship's supposed to sail. The wind was always behind us no matter which way we turned. It would've been perfect conditions, except that the sea was black as ink--"

Jack interrupted. "There was no sea! Not a drop of water to be found! It was bone dry all the way to the horizon!"

Quiet sadness replaced Phillip's usual cheerful and animated expression.

"The sea _we_ sailed on _was_ black, and the sky was red--"

Jack shuddered. "Ugh! That sky… Red like blood, and the sun never set. Never saw a single cloud, and it was always high noon. Hotter than blazes… Quiet as a tomb… His voice trailed off as he stared into his rum. "…and she was dead…" he whispered so quietly that only Lizzie heard him.

* * *

Phillip paused, expecting Jack to say more. When he remained silent, Phillip continued. "The witch called us all together on the main deck and told us that 'er part o' the job was done. She'd got us into the Locker, but she couldn't find Jack for us. She said "you have to know your own heart to know which way to go". Then she told us she'd given Jack a special compass because 'dat boy never did know 'is own heart'. Knowin' that 'is compass never did work, that raised a laugh out o' some o' us!" He chuckled at the memory. Jack looked up at him and frowned slightly.

"She told us, 'Think of Jack as you saw him last. Hold tight to the memory and let your heart set our course.' I tried, Jack, I truly did. The last time I'd seen ye, you were walkin' out o'here." He waved a hand toward the inn's front door. "I didn't feel anything peculiar. Neither did Gibbs nor any of the crew; we all looked slantwise at one another and one by one, put our hands in our pockets." Phillip took a drink of his rum. He rolled it around in his mouth, savoring it.

It was Jack's turn to say "Well, go on then!"

"Bootstrap's get spoke out first. 'e pointed toward the rudder and said 'That way'.

Lizzie stretched out 'er hand and pointed forward, maybe twenty degrees off the starboard bow. The witch pulled 'em together in front o' 'er. She laid 'er hands on their hearts and told 'em, 'Think again of the last time you saw Jack Sparrow. What did 'e say? What did 'e do? Think of why you want to find 'im, and let your heart truly lead you.' Right then, our Lizzie 'ere turned as pale as death. She ran across the deck to the fo'c's'le and pointed out over the starboard bow rail. The lad's face went red and purple in turns and 'is hands curled up into fists. Without a word, 'e turned and went below decks. The witch told Barbossa, 'Follow 'er course.'"

Jack interrupted. "Wasn't there a compass aboard that ship?"

"Of course! Between the two crews, we had several. But every one o' 'em stopped workin' when we went over the edge; their needles all spun like tops. Just like yours, come to think of it!" Phillip turned his attention to his rum. "Allie, we definitely need to come by some more o' this!"

Jack looked at his wife. "Did you try holding any of the compasses?

Lizzie nodded. "I tried them all. They spun just as madly for me."

"So she used _you_ as the compass instead…" he said quietly. His mouth did not smile, but his eyes did.

Lizzie nodded. Her voice broke as she whispered, "She knew…the day the Kraken…she looked into my eyes, and I could tell that she knew… everything."

* * *

A/N: agonic lines and declination maps:

AdhesivePrincess's science lesson for today is a little tidbit I discovered by accident while trying to decide exactly where that "hole in the ocean" should appear. Please bear with me while I explain…

To simplify things greatly, there is a magnetic field covering the entire planet Earth. It affects magnetic compass readings. The north-seeking needle on a compass does not point to the North Pole or "true north". Instead, the compass needle points to a place on the earth where the planet's magnetic lines of force converge - magnetic north.

The difference between magnetic north and true north, measured in degrees, is called magnetic declination. It varies by up to 30 degrees, depending on where you are. If you are standing at a point where there is no declination, your compass needle points to both true north _and_ magnetic north. Where this happens, you are on an agonic line, or line of no variation.

Ever since magnetic declination and agonic lines were discovered centuries ago, sailing navigational charts have included degrees of declination. This has allowed sailors to account for changes in compass readings as they moved toward or away from agonic lines.

Lines of magnetic declination and agonic lines curve and drift over time due to the influence of the magnetic field produced by the Earth's swirling molten core. To see an animated graphic of how the lines of declination have moved around the world over the past 500 years, visit:

**tinyurl (DOT) com (SLASH) bvqt2f**

Why is all of this important, and what does it have to do with this story?

Unexplained disappearances at sea have been recorded for many centuries. After magnetic declination was discovered, historians began to notice that many of those disappearances had occurred in areas near an agonic line.

For a few hundred years, the Western hemisphere's agonic line drifted through a section of the Atlantic Ocean that spread between Bermuda, Puerto Rico and Florida. You may have heard of this section of the ocean referred to as _the Bermuda Triangle_. There is a lesser known 'mystery triangle' on the other side of the world. It is located in the general vicinity of the Philippines, and is called the "_Dragon Triangle_".

During the time period of this story the Western hemisphere agonic line really was just west of Bermuda. And the Eastern hemisphere agonic line cut across the northern coast of the island of Malaysia in the South China Sea, less than two weeks' sailing time from Singapore!

I'm amazed at the things one can learn while simply looking for the name of a particular area of an ocean!


	94. Chapter 94 The Compass Rose

A/N: Dearest Readers:

What can I say? Life keeps intruding into my writing time. I try my best, but sometimes I just can't fit it in... Please stay with me. I WILL finish this story—but I won't even try to guess when that will happen.

AdhesivePrincess, June 15, 2009

_**CH 94 The Compass Rose**_

Dark memories surged into Lizzie's mind as Phillip recounted the journey into the Locker. The instant the ship had righted itself on the ebony water, something had begun to tug at the very edges of her consciousness . When Tia Dalma had commanded 'let your heart truly lead you', the faint tug had exploded into a compulsion. Lizzie felt as if her very soul was being pulled like taffy, gripped by something that lay off the starboard bow. She was possessed by the overwhelming need to sail in that direction. She had not noticed when Will left the deck. She did not, could not move from the fo'c's'le until Barbossa aligned the ship to that heading.

She had never needed to discuss their direction with Barbossa or anyone else. The captain and his helmsmen set their course by simply watching her on the fo'c's'le. The arm she extended was their compass needle; the horizon toward which she gazed held their goal.

If the ship drifted even a degree out of line, she found it impossible to concentrate on anything else until their path had been corrected. She often awoke from deep sleep suddenly aware that the ship had strayed off the mark. She could not rest again until it was back on the proper heading.

But when the ship was following Lizzie's course, the pull eased and she could eat, sleep, think. She often thought about what they would find when they reached their destination. Reason and common sense told her that Jack must be dead. She had seen how enormous the Kraken was. She had felt its power when it struck the Black Pearl. Even from a distance the creature's huge, ugly teeth had been visible when it opened its mouth to engulf Jack. It was ludicrous to imagine that he could have survived those hideous jaws. Yet Lizzie had trusted that Tia Dalma had not brought them on the dangerous journey in vain. This gave her cause to hope that somehow Jack had cheated death once more. As the mysterious pull on her grew stronger, the more certain she became that Jack must surely be alive.

* * *

From the day they set out to find Jack, Will had protected her zealously. He did everything possible to ensure her physical comfort. Despite her objections, he had convinced Barbossa to exempt her from any shipboard chores. He brought all of her meals to her cabin, stood guard outside it while she slept, and blocked others from approaching the ship's head when she used it, guaranteeing her privacy. Aside from brief, polite encounters with Captain Barbossa and Tia Dalma, Will had been the only person aboard that Lizzie could talk to.

After she was thrust into the role of guide, Will became quiet and sullen. He continued to look out for her, but from that point on he spoke to her as seldom and as tersely as he could manage. When Lizzie had pressed him to explain his silence, he only said that the red sky made him uncomfortable. He said that he strongly feared that Tia Dalma's witchcraft would get them lost in that place forever. Then he resumed his reticence. Lizzie had been very lonely during the voyage to the world's end.

As they had sailed on the black sea, Barbossa had never passed up an opportunity to remind Will of Lizzie's apparent connection to Jack. Every time he adjusted the course to follow her direction he mentioned it to Will. _"Ah, yer lovely lady's corrected our course again, Mister Turner! Do ye think she'll lead us to 'im today?" _

When she thought about it later, long after they had parted ways, she had felt pity for Will—for a moment. _Watching me being used to guide the ship to find Jack…and listening to that awful man goading him… must have been very difficult for Will. But then again, no one forced him to go on that voyage. He brought it all down upon himself._

* * *

Lizzie recalled the oppressive, searing orange sun. It always hung directly overhead, never moving in the crimson sky. The ringing of the watch bell was the only way the crew knew whether time should be called day or night. The featureless hours grew into indistinguishable days marked only by scratches made in the rail by the watch. As the days blurred together into weeks, the force that beckoned Lizzie had grown stronger, making her increasingly anxious and impatient. She spent most of her time on the fo'c's'le, leaving it only for short periods when Will insisted that she needed to sleep. Eventually he gave up and left her alone, watching from a few feet away as she stood at the bow rail gazing out to sea.

The last few days before they came within sight of land, Lizzie had felt she might snap like a violin string. She began to feel an overwhelming need to hurry, as if they were about to miss something important. But the ship could go no faster than the gentle winds that filled her sails could push her. Every slight variance from the course that burned within Lizzie seemed to take an eternity to correct. When the shore came into distant view, she had to resist the rising urge to jump overboard and swim to get there faster. Her course pointed straight inland.

Barbossa ordered depth soundings every few minutes. Sailors scrambled when he issued the orders to go ashore. "Haul in the sheets and drop the anchor! We daren't sail any closer. Lower the longboats and take our lovely guide to shore."

Lizzie had leaned out over the bow of the longboat like a figurehead. At the first sound of oars scraping against sand, she had hopped over the side and waded ashore. The warm, thigh-deep water barely slowed her down. As soon as she reached the dusty beach she broke into a run, one arm reaching out before her. There was nothing visible as far as she could see except orange sand. But she ran with an urgency she had never felt before. She had to get there as soon as she could. She had to see; she had to know.

As she raced across the featureless beach, her outstretched hand encountered something at her shoulder level. It was solid and warm. She was halted in mid-step. The beach vanished.

* * *

She was standing on the deck of the Pearl, sailing on blue waters under blue skies. Jack's face was less than an inch from hers; his back was against the main mast. Her outstretched hand rested on his chest. The fingers of her other hand were trailing over the cold iron of the manacle, across his hand, down his thumb and off into the chilly air. She could feel the longing in her body, the desire to kiss him just once more before…

Jack was smiling a soft, knowing smile just as he had on that awful day. She glanced around. Everything on the deck was exactly as it had been. She stared at Jack in disbelief. As she focused on his face, the sky around the edges of her vision shifted to purple; when she flicked her eyes to look at it directly it became blue again. Unsure of what was happening, she did not move to back away as she had that other time.

Jack frowned. "Your clothes—they're not right…not the same…" he muttered. Lizzie glanced down at herself and gasped. She was wearing the stolen clothing she had worn on the day the Pearl went down. Weeks earlier, before the search for Jack had begun, she had traded those garments for clothes that fit her more comfortably. As she watched, the clothing dissolved into what she knew she was wearing. She looked quickly out to sea. The water was black for an instant before it turned blue. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the sky shifted rapidly from red to blue. She wondered whose dream she was in; Jack's or her own?

She looked up at Jack again, his lips still tantalizingly close to hers. "You came back for us, Jack. I came back for you. I know what I want now…" She took his free hand in hers. The manacle clicked, opened and fell away from his other wrist. Still holding his hand, she walked backwards toward the stern of the ship, leading him.

Jack's eyebrows flew toward his scarf in surprise as he realized he was free. Lizzie smiled and opened her mouth to speak. As she did so, everything changed again.

* * *

She was standing on the orange beach facing Jack. She still clasped his hand, his many rings sparkling on the fingers. But that hand was attached to a desiccated corpse dressed in faded rags. The skull still bore tufts of the mustache and one beaded chin braid. Tarnished trinkets tied to the long, tangled hair clunked dismally against the skeleton's bones. Several gold teeth glinted from under tightly stretched shreds of leathery skin that had once been lips. The dehydrated corpse collapsed in a heap of bones and rotten cloth, cracked leather and clanging metal. As it dropped, a tarnished cutlass fell from its belt and stuck point-first into the fine sand. Lizzie's screams pierced the stillness as she flung herself backwards. The bony hand broke away, its bejeweled fingers still clenched around hers.


	95. Chapter 95 And Back Again

A/N: 74,000+ hits on this story as of today! I can't thank you all enough!

--AdhesivePrincess

July 10, 2009

* * *

_**CH 95 And Back Again**_

"Go on, grandpapa!" Sam begged. Lizzie was jarred from her silent recollections. She rubbed a hand across her eyes as she fought to clear that last terrible image from her mind.

Phillip took another sip of rum, cleared his throat and continued. "It felt like an eternity before we sighted land. When we did, we were sorry to see it. The shore was just as hateful as the sky. Orange sand, baked by the sun and the heat, no trees nor greenery at all. When we neared the shore, the witch gave us all another o' 'er riddles. How did she put it?" He stopped and thought for a moment, tapping his lower lip with one finger.

"Oh, I recall! She said 'In your world of the living, what you can see and touch is what is real. But the living don't belong here. Here, surmise belies reality and assumption masquerades as truth. Be mindful of what you choose to believe.'" He shook his head. "I swear, that woman never spoke plain to us once!"

"Oh, but she did…" Jack mumbled under his breath as Phillip continued.

"Anyway, Lizzie's course pointed ashore, so we launched the longboats. We'd barely scraped bottom when she jumped out and made off like the devil was chasin' 'er. Then the strangest thing happened! One second she was runnin' across sand that was flat and bare all the way to the horizon. The next second, she was gone, just like that!" He snapped his fingers.

Jack and Lizzie shifted uncomfortably and looked away from each other.

"Young Turner went over the side and dashed after 'er, screamin' 'er name. The rest o' us beached the boats as fast as we could and ran after 'im. When we got to the spot where she'd vanished, there was nothin' there at all but 'er footprints. The whole crew mustered where 'er trail ended, everybody jabberin' at once. We came to the conclusion that she'd been pulled into whatever afterlife Jack had gone to when he died.

Right then the whole blasted ship appeared in front of us, and these two right next to 'er! Lizzie let go of 'is hand, and Jack dropped like 'e'd been shot. 'e fell to one side and just lay there. She backed away from 'im, shakin' 'er hand as if it was burnt, and screamin' like a whole flock o' banshees! I never heard anything like the keenin' that came out o' 'er! Then she fell over in a dead faint."

Jack said nothing. He just took another slow drink of the rum. Lizzie examined her hands as they lay in her lap.

"Gibbs got to Jack first. 'E said it felt like Jack 'ad just taken 'is last breath; 'e was still hot an' sweaty when Gibbs touched 'im. Turner tried to get Lizzie on 'er feet, but 'e couldn't wake 'er. Finally 'e picked 'er up and carried 'er back to a longboat.

Right away, Barbossa started talkin' about takin' the Pearl for 'imself. 'E said a dead Jack would 'ave no use for 'er any longer. The witch put 'im in 'is place straight off. She said somethin' about upholdin' 'is end of some bargain they'd struck. She said that 'e was free take the Pearl if 'e wanted to sail that black sea forever. 'e changed 'is tune and toed up to 'er mark real fast. But it were plain to tell 'e weren't happy about it. Then she told Gibbs to see to it that Jack was taken aboard the Pearl. When Gibbs asked if they should prepare to bury 'im at sea, she said, 'All of you came 'ere to take Jack Sparrow back to the land o' the living. Ye must finish what ye started.'

Me and Gibbs looked up at the main mast and both o' us had the same thought. 'That's Jack's standard flyin' up there. We can't sail under 'is colors with him aboard and dead.' So, as first mate and actin' captain, Gibbs ordered the colors lowered. We wrapped Jack in 'is flag for the voyage out o' the Locker. We figured we'd be buryin' 'im soon's we got back to blue water. We put 'im in 'is cabin bunk and started preparin' to get the Pearl off the beach."

* * *

"We couldn't see anythin' wrong with the ship. She was in fine fettle for bein' beached for so long. It was as if she'd only been out o' the water for maybe a day. 'er hull was solid, 'er sails and lines weren't dry rotted. The bilge was even clean!" Phillip chuckled.

"The odd thing was, she looked to 'ave 'ad supplies aboard when she went down. But every last speck of it was ruined. There were broken bottles and smashed rum kegs scattered all over the decks. The water barrels had all been upended. And the biscuits and salted meat 'ad been ground into the planks, by a boot heel from the looks of it. Save for that mess, the ship looked nearly new!"

Jack's fingers curled around the rum glass; the knuckles were white.

"We re-provisioned the Pearl as best we could, with what little Barbossa would spare us.

All the men worked together to haul the Pearl into the water. Near sixty of us and we couldn't budge 'er! Just when we were ready to give up, damned if the tide didn't start rising! I still can't fathom how there could be tides when the sun never moved and the moon never rose! But by high tide, the Pearl was afloat. The crew split up. Most, includin' Lizzie and the Turner lad went with Barbossa. The witch came with us on the Pearl. It took every living body aboard on the sweeps to move 'er out to deeper water. We 'ad barely enough crew to man the ship. Nobody wanted to sail with a corpse aboard…" He stopped for a swallow of rum.

* * *

Lizzie didn't recall returning to Barbossa's ship. She had fainted when the bony hand came away in her grasp. When she had awakened, she was in her cabin and a very worried Will was sponging water on her forehead.

She remembered how quickly Will had changed after that. He seemed to cheer up, and began to talk to Lizzie again as if nothing had ever been amiss. The chattier Will became, the less Lizzie had wanted to hear him speak. She knew Jack had been alive when she found him. Something had killed him when she touched him. All she had wanted to do was think about that last moment, to try to determine what had happened. Perhaps there was some way to undo whatever had been done; maybe there was a clue somewhere on the Black Pearl. She had told Will that she wanted to sail back on the other ship.

Will had smiled and said it was too late for that. Lizzie ran up on deck with Will right behind her. She found that they were already out of sight of the shore. The Pearl was some distance behind them. It would require a longboat to get her there from Barbossa's ship. Barbossa certainly would not spare any crew members or a boat for that task. She was trapped on the wrong ship with the wrong man. She had turned to Will and asked why they weren't on the Pearl.

Will explained why he had decided they should sail back with Barbossa. He had come to the conclusion that Barbossa, not Tia Dalma, had been the one to find the way into wherever they were, because Barbossa had also died and come back from the dead. _"I'm sure he knows the way out, Elizabeth. He's done it before."_ He also stated that Tia Dalma was insane for refusing to allow Gibbs to bury Jack's body in the black sea. The Pearl now had a corpse aboard, and within a day or two, Jack would surely smell much worse than he ever had in life.

Will's final argument was that the Pearl surely must be damaged and leaky after spending so long out of water. She saw him attempt to conceal a smile when he commented that the black ship would probably sink at any moment.

When the Pearl set sail, Jack's standard, a sparrow in flight facing a skull wearing a head scarf, was not flying from the main mast. Every time Lizzie looked back at the Pearl, the missing flag was a jarring reminder that Jack was indeed dead. Lizzie was the silent one on the voyage back.

* * *

On the return trip, Will spent some of his free time on the quarterdeck talking to Barbossa when he was at the helm. Lizzie had accidentally overheard part of a conversation between the captain and her fiancé'.

Barbossa had said, 'His reputation as a rakehell was well earned, y'know. He used 'em and tossed 'em aside. He would have had no appreciation for one so fine and fair. Although I'm sure she served his purposes well enough at the time, if ye take me meanin'…"

Will had replied in shocked tones, "No! Do you really think--?"

Barbossa's harsh laugh had interrupted him. "I must admit, he possessed an enviable appeal to those of the muliebral persuasion. But he often misused it without respect for other men's property. I've no doubt but that at the earliest opportunity, he taught her the ins and outs of the first game ever played!" His throaty chuckle had been cut off as Will uttered a wordless growl and plunged his knife deep into the ship's aft mast.

She had not understood the innuendos at the time. It wasn't until several months later that Lizzie realized where Will had gotten the ideas that caused him to break off their engagement.

* * *

Phillip refilled his glass of rum, drank some more and returned to his narrative. Bobby fidgeted in her chair as he talked. Finally she tugged on Allie's sleeve and whispered in her ear. Allie nodded and held up one index finger toward her daughter.

"The witch led us to another hole in the water only a days' voyage from the shore and over we went. It was a slower, rougher voyage, like we were sailin' into a strong wind, and stormy as well. When the skies cleared we saw that we were sailin' _up_ and nigh unto the top. The Pearl stopped there, bobbing on 'er stern, bowsprit pointin' to the sky. The whole crew had to climb up on the bow to tip 'er over the edge. But when she tipped, just like that--". He snapped his fingers. "--the sea was blue, the sky was blue, and the witch was gone! We never saw what happened to 'er. She must've fell overboard and got swept back over the edge by the current."

Jack and Lizzie exchanged glances but said nothing.

"Once we were up over the edge, that hole in the ocean vanished clean away!" Phillip picked something out of his teeth with a ragged fingernail before continuing.

"I looked at my compass, and it was pointin' to North again. The compass and the sun told me that we were somewhere near the equator, but in which ocean? I 'ad no way to tell! I looked at the charts. Based on currents and prevailing winds, I placed us at best guess not far off the east coast of Africa. Gibbs ordered the helm to follow Barbossa until we could get our bearings.

Before I could start settin' a course, the door to Jack's cabin slammed. Gibbs 'adn't ordered anyone to stand guard over the body, so o' course we ran to see who'd gone in there. Imagine our shock when we saw Jack standin' on the deck holdin' 'is flag and weavin' like a man who's been on a month-long drunk!" Phillip grinned at Jack.

"The whole crew gathered round cheerin' and askin' questions all at once. Jack didn't seem to 'ear any of us though. When ye first came out, you were actin' quite daft, even for you! D'ye recall that?"

Jack frowned and tilted his head to one side in question.

Phillip laughed. "Oh, ye surely must remember! You dashed around the Pearl whooping and grinning like a hyena. You touched every part o' her you could reach, runnin' your hands along the rails, huggin' the masts and laughin' like a madman! You even shoved Cotton away from the helm and kissed the wheel!"

In response to Phillip's words, Jack's eyes squinted tightly shut. He nodded slowly. "She was dead. In… there... the wheel didn't respond, the sails didn't rustle, the lines hung slack, the deck didn't roll. She was a corpse, Phillip, a stiff, dead body. She wasn't my ship. She was just a puppet made out of wood and cloth and hemp. But after…"

Jack slapped the table as he turned to Lizzie. "Now I understand! I understand why she changed…"

Lizzie's eyebrows wrinkled together as she shook her head gently. "I don't."

"She don't mind as long as you are her captain." He spoke the words with an exaggerated island accent. Gooseflesh rose on Lizzie's arms as she recalled Yemaya's tale of the sea nymph spirit that inhabited the Black Pearl.

"Whatever are you talking about, Jack?" Allie asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, savvy?"

* * *

Phillip continued. "You didn't seem to care that you'd been dead and come back to life, perhaps not just once but twice! All you cared about was the Pearl! After a time, somebody thought to run up the colors. I've got to say Jack, I've never been so glad to see a pirate flag flyin' in my life as I was that day. The Pearl 'ad 'er captain back again!" He reached across the table and clapped Jack on the shoulder.

Lizzie recalled watching the Pearl stand on her stern at the top of the mysterious hole in the sea. She couldn't take her eyes off the black ship. She saw it tip over and begin to sail normally. Her heart sank at the thought that now Gibbs and the crew could bury Jack's body in the oceans he had loved more than anything else. She held her breath when she saw Jack's colors appear atop the Pearl's main mast. She knew that could only mean one thing. Desperate joy had filled her heart; he was alive. But she wasn't there.

She had longed to find a way to get from Barbossa's nameless ship to the Pearl, but Barbossa had caught a trade wind and set off at full sail. The Black Pearl did not follow immediately, and was soon just a distant speck on the aft horizon. Will saw the happiness blossom in her eyes at the sight of the Pearl's flag. Once again his hands had curled into fists. He had almost completely avoided her until they reached Singapore.

"Barbossa's ship headed away on a westward course, and we followed 'er. In only a few days the crows' nest cried 'land ho!' But it weren't Africa—we had come up from the Locker in the South China Sea, just a few days away from Singapore harbor. When we made port, we got quite a surprise. According to my log book, the journey took some three months, from Hispanolia to the Locker to Singapore. Me and Gibbs met up with some English sailors in port. Imagine our astonishment to find that we'd been at sea for fourteen months!"

* * *

_A/N:_

Rakehell: a sexually promiscuous man, a "rake".

Muliebral—having womanly qualities; a rare and antiquated feminine equivalent to the word 'virile'.

"the first game ever played": very old euphemism for sex.


	96. Chapter 96 Aftermath

_**CH 96 Aftermath**_

"Mama…" Bobby whined quietly.

"Stop right there!" Allie demanded as she stood up. "Some of us need a recess!"

Bobby pointed at Jack and Lizzie. "Don't either of you say a word until I get back! I don't want to miss a single thing!" She rushed out of the dining room toward the back door. Sam followed her as quickly as she could manage without appearing unladylike. Allie whispered "Privy!", and then turned to follow her daughters. Phillip stood and stretched his arms. "That sounds like a good idea," he commented and sauntered out after the others.

Jack looked at Lizzie. "You, too?" He gestured toward the back of the inn. Lizzie shook her head.

When Phillip was out of sight, she asked "What happened to the food aboard the Pearl? Why didn't you eat and drink?"

Jack's words were quiet, his voice raspy. "There was no food. The bottles and kegs were all full of sand. The salt pork and biscuits were charcoal… I was parched and famished, the same as when Barbossa left me on that island. This time I had plenty of shot and powder. But my gun wouldn't fire and my blades wouldn't cut me… After a time, m' flesh wasted away and I could see m'bones." He stretched out a hand and observed it as he flexed the fingers. "But it wouldn't end…"

Lizzie felt tears of empathy sting her eyelids. Davy Jones had cursed Jack with his greatest fear; to be marooned and left to starve_. _She knew that fear; she had felt it herself. _… Jack would have starved for all eternity in that place._ She repressed a shudder and placed her head gently on his shoulder in a futile effort to comfort him. He did not appear to notice; after a moment, she sat up straight again.

"What happened when I found you? What did you… see?"

His lips tightened and he looked at the table.

"I cut my way out of the belly of the Kraken and stepped out onto that orange wasteland. There was nothing there but me and the Pearl. I walked as far as I could in every direction, but there was nothing, nobody. I couldn't eat or drink, couldn't kill myself. I starved and rotted, and felt every second of it. I could see my own bones as my flesh fell away. The Pearl crumbled into splinters before me. I knew I was going mad. Just when I was certain I couldn't take any more, it started all over again. I found myself on the deck of the Pearl facing you. I kept…re-living… everything…from the moment you walked away from me on the deck until I was nothing but bones. It happened again and again, exactly the same every time. I memorized every little detail of you—it was the part that hurt the least."

Lizzie winced. _I deserved that…_

"The very last time, your clothing was different. The sky kept flashing purple and red at the edge of my sight. And instead of turning away from me, you took my hand. When you did that, the sky turned red, and just for an instant the sea was black."

She nodded. "Yes, the sky kept changing for me as well."

"Then the Pearl disappeared and we were on the sand. That's the last thing I remember until I awoke in my cabin wrapped up in my colors with proper golden sunlight shinin' in my eyes. I hadn't really believed I could die. I don't know if I did or not…" He shook his head.

Lizzie shivered. "When the ship vanished, I was left holding the hand of a skeleton. Your skeleton…" She thought for a moment. "Tia Dalma told us 'Be mindful of what you choose to believe…'" She looked up at Jack. "I never truly believed that you were dead. You were quite alive when I found you. You just said that you didn't believe you could die. Until _we_ arrived there, you _didn't_ die. But Phillip said that the crew decided you must be dead. I'm sure that at least two of them _wanted_ you to be dead." She halted, considering her idea. "I think the majority rule ultimately decided your fate…"

Jack grew quiet. He studied his hands, folded around the glass of rum. Without raising his eyes, he asked, "How long was I in the Locker?"

Lizzie replied softly, "Just over a year and a half, Jack."

"Hmmm…" Jack's fingers bent and straightened in turn as he mumbled to himself.  
"There are fifty two weeks in a year, and twenty six weeks in a proper half year. That's… seventy eight weeks. It takes maybe six weeks for a healthy man to starve to death and rot. Six into seventy eight is…thirteen." He looked at Lizzie. "That's once for every year that Jones promised I would be the captain of the Pearl…'

* * *

Phillip, Allie and the girls filed into the room and took their seats. Allie asked, "Did you finish off the rum while we were gone?"

In response, Jack drained his glass and plunked it down in front of Allie. Lizzie smiled as she replied, "No, but we were just about to!" She finished her drink and pushed her glass toward Allie.

Allie held up the bottle and shook it gently. "Not much left! Who gets the last of it?" Phillip put his hand across his glass. "Give it to 'im—'e looks like 'e needs it!"

Lizzie pulled her glass back. "Give it to Jack."

Allie stuck out her lower lip. "I was hopin' you'd all say I should take it. But if you insist…" She feigned a put-upon sigh as she poured the last of the precious aged rum into Jack's glass. "I suppose the story's been worth it thus far…"

At Sam and Bobby's protests, she couldn't contain her smile any longer. "Aye girls, you're right. This is the most amazing tale I've ever heard! And romantic as well! The way fate keeps drawin' the two o' you together is better than the love stories from the legends of King Arthur's court! It's certain that you were destined to be with each other!"

Jack glared at Allie. He appeared to be looking at her over invisible spectacles. He made a low sound that ended with a harsh clearing of his throat.

Allie raised her hands in surrender. "I know, you don't believe in fate." She mocked his voice. "A man makes his own destiny!" She giggled at her imitation of him. "But I truly believe that you were meant to be together. There's too many parts o' your story that can't be just circumstance!"

Jack rolled his eyes and ignored her. He sipped his rum in silence for several minutes. When he spoke again, he resumed the story with Lizzie joining his crew in Singapore.

He skimmed quickly through their supernaturally fast voyage across the Pacific. At first he was quiet and subdued. As he talked he became more animated and involved in the story again.

The tale of their land voyage across Panama received more detail. He described Pardal's initial pursuit of Lizzie in gleeful detail, bringing Allie to tears of wheezing laughter as he described Lizzie's inebriated departure from the ill-fated supper. The story had brought them as far as the edge of the piranha-filled lake when Jack paused and pondered his rum. "Privy break!" he announced as he stood to leave the table.

When he returned and continued the tale, he left out any mention of the Celestina, the dives in the lake, the treasure and the leeches. As he reached the point leading up to Pardal's death, he paused again and turned to Lizzie. "Should I skip over this next part?"

Lizzie sighed. "It's bound to come out sooner or later… go on."

Jack asked, "Do you want to tell it?" She shook her head, eyes opened wide to emphasize the refusal. "Alright then," Jack agreed, and went on speaking.

Lizzie clenched her hands and looked guiltily at the table top as Jack related the events of the day that had changed her life forever. She expected to be judged harshly by Allie and the girls for killing a man. As Jack described how Lizzie had challenged Pardal's entire crew to avenge their employer's death, Allie interrupted.

"Good for you, Lizzie! There are enough women being driven into the flesh trade by their circumstances without even more being kidnapped and forced into it by scum like that."

Lizzie's eyes flew wide open in surprise. Sam looked shocked but said nothing. Bobby started to ask a question, but Sam shushed her.

"You expected me to condemn you to Hell for killin' 'im, didn't you? You won't hear it from me. I don't approve of killing without very good cause, but that one gave you more than enough reasons. You did more good than evil, Lizzie. I'm sure the good Lord will take that into account on the Judgment Day." She patted Lizzie's hand. "Go on, Jack! I want to hear more!"


	97. Chapter 97 Not Quite Myself Today

**Meanwhile, back in Port Royal...**

**

* * *

  
**

_**Ch 97 Not Quite Myself Today**_

_**Port Royal, Jamaica, Saturday 27 August, 1746, afternoon**_

Governor Weatherby Swann slumped over his desk. His elbows thumped onto the blotter as he dropped his forehead into his hands, covered his eyes and heaved a weary sigh. He remained motionless for several moments. He finally raised his head and looked down. The short letter which had arrived by post less than an hour ago still lay before him on the desk. The neatly written words that had changed his entire life covered less than half of the piece of wrinkled and dirty paper. But those words dangled inconceivable hope and then dashed that same hope, all in a few brief lines.

Swann lifted the small crystal decanter from its engraved silver tray. He pulled out the silver stopper and tilted the bottle to refill his cut crystal glass. Only a few drops of amber liquid trickled out. Swann shook it several times, but no more brandy was forthcoming; the decanter was empty. He plunked the bottle on the tray in disgust. Tossing the stopper to the desk, he reached for the embroidered bell pull that hung on the wall behind his leather chair and yanked angrily.

In the butler's pantry, a bell jangled. The man seated on a barrel beneath the bell array sighed in annoyance. He flipped a few more pages in a tattered penny novel before dropping it to the floor as the bell rang again. "It don't 'ave enough pictures anyway," he muttered as he adjusted his livery jacket, which was much too large for him. He trudged down the hall that led to the governor's library.

"What is it?" he inquired in a bored tone as he entered the room.

"This is empty." Swann waved the decanter in the air. He did not look up from the letter on the blotter before him.

The butler chided, "Again?"

Swann looked up scowling and shouted, "Never question my orders, Bryson! Just get me some more brandy! And fill it up this time, not just a third full"

The man frowned. "If ye recall, Bryson quit. I'm Frye." He plucked at the oversized jacket of his predecessor to emphasize his words.

Swann waved the decanter harder. "Whoever you are, do as you're ordered, and step to it!" He returned to staring at the letter, still holding out the sparkling bottle.

The man took it from Swann's waving hand and picked up the tray from the desk. "Right." He turned and left the library.

* * *

Frye refilled the decanter from the barrel of brandy that was kept in the wine cellar. He took a few swigs from the vessel before filling it again. "I'd ha' never guessed that the Governor was a drunkard! But I don't suppose I'd mind gettin' 'im more o'this thirty times in a day!" he commented with a smile as he corked the vessel.

As he entered the hall at the top of the cellar steps, Frye encountered Estrella, the senior housekeeper. She noticed the crystal decanter. "'imself wants _more_?" she queried, shaking her head. "Somethin' must be eatin' at 'im today. 'e never drinks that much!"

"I dunno. 'E's been pourin' down the brandy ever since 'e got a letter in this afternoon's post."

"A letter? Do tell? 'Oo's it from?"

"Can't say for certain. I 'eard 'im muttering 'Lizabeth' as I passed by the library a bit ago. Do you know any 'Lizabeth what could get 'im so worked up? Does the old man 'ave a mistress?"

Estrella clapped a hand to her mouth as she squealed "Elizabeth!"

Frye frowned. "Right, 'at's what I said. So who's 'at?"

Estrella looked briefly surprised. "Oh, I forgot that you're new to Port Royal! Elizabeth was 'imself's only daughter! She disappeared well over a year ago. That sinful Beckett fellow ruined 'er wedding to that handsome Mister Turner. Oh, 'e was such a nice lad, even though 'e were just a blacksmith. The two o'them made such a pretty pair…they'd o' had such beautiful babies!" Her voice cracked. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her apron.

"Beg pardon, I still miss the dear girl. That Beckett jailed 'er for consortin' with pirates, even though it weren't by her own choice, 'aving been kidnapped and all! She escaped from the prison and nobody's seen 'er since! I was 'er lady's maid, 'ave been ever since we came over from England when Miss Elizabeth was just a young girl. Me and the cook are sure she must be dead—no lady o'her breedin' could survive that long on 'er own! We don't mention 'er name around 'imself no more. But 'imself's been 'oldin' out 'ope that she's still alive! Ooooh, how I wonder what's in that letter!"

"Why don't you ask 'im?"

"Ask 'im? Are you daft?"

"Why not? If you were 'er maid an' all that, maybe 'e'll tell you summat 'e wouldn't tell me."

Estrella gave it a moment's thought. "Hmmm, 'e might at that." She took the tray from Frye and set off for the library.

* * *

The door was open. She stepped into the library and stopped. Swann did not notice her. She cleared her throat quietly. The Governor's head snapped up from contemplation of the letter on the desk. "Estrella!" He focused reddened eyes on the maid from beneath his crooked powdered wig. Estrella placed the tray on the desk. "Yes, sir." She curtseyed politely.

"I thought I sent…Bryson…no, that's not right, well, somebody else for this!"

"You did, sir, but… May I speak plain, Governor?" Without waiting for permission she hurried on, twisting her fingers nervously as she spoke. "I came instead because I'm worried, sir. I've been with this house for a long time, and it's not like you to imbibe so much. Is there something wrong, sir? Are you ill?"

Swann rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Close the door, Estrella. This isn't for anyone but you to hear." She did as she was told, and returned to stand before the large teak desk.

"Elizabeth _is alive_." Estrella gasped in shock and covered her mouth with both hands. But even two hands couldn't hide her joyous smile.

"At least she was alive as of four days ago." He gestured toward the letter. "It's been quite an upsetting day. First, I received a visit from a foreign fellow named…oh, blast!" He opened a drawer of the desk and pulled out a piece of paper with writing on it. "His name was Renato Garcia. He had his daughter with him, a wisp of a woman who barely spoke at all. This Garcia chap claimed to have spent the last month traveling through the jungles of Panama with Elizabeth and the entire crew of the Black Pearl."

Estrella gasped again. "The Black Pearl? That's the pirate ship captained by that loathsome Sparrow fellow, i'n't it? They were in a jungle? Why was Miss Elizabeth there?"

"As Garcia told the story, they were hauling the ship overland to avoid sailing 'round the Horn. I've never heard anything more ridiculous in my life!"

Estrella frowned; geography had not been part of her very limited education.

Swann went on. "Garcia claimed to have seen Elizabeth alive and well barely a week ago. He said she was to meet him and his daughter at a place they had agreed upon, and they were to travel here together from Panama. But Elizabeth did not appear, so they sailed without her. He said Elizabeth told him to come to me seeking employment. He had no proof to back his fanciful story. So I told him I thought he was just trying to profit from Elizabeth's disappearance, and I ordered him to leave."

Swann stopped, refilled his glass and took a deep draught of the brandy. He coughed, swallowed, and went on speaking.

"Then his daughter raised her eyes to me for the first time. She begged me to believe him. She said that Elizabeth—MY Elizabeth—killed a man—".

Estrella drew in a gasp of horror and offered up a silent prayer for Elizabeth's soul. A pang of guilt made her hurriedly send up another prayer for the soul of Elizabeth's victim. Swann never stopped speaking.

"---who had held her captive for eight years. In doing so, Elizabeth freed her to return to her father. She said she owes her life to my daughter. She wants nothing more than to serve Elizabeth and her family until the day she dies. Garcia agreed with her, saying that he was forever beholden to Elizabeth for reuniting him with his only daughter." He took another deep quaff of the brandy, emptying the delicate crystal glass. He immediately refilled it.

"I took note of where Garcia and his daughter are staying in Port Royal. If Elizabeth turns up soon and confirms his story, I will consider taking both of them on as part of the household staff. Lord knows we could use more dedicated help around here. I think Sala, the head butler, may be getting a bit long of tooth. The last few applicants he has hired to be my valet have left much to be desired."

Estrella nodded agreement. "And we haven't had a gardener stay longer than a week since Burns…" Her voice trailed off as she shivered.

Swann looked down at the letter again. "As Garcia left, he said to me, 'Would you not feel eternal gratitude toward the person who brought your lost daughter back to you? This is what I feel for your brave Elizabeth.'" Tears came to Swann's eyes. He blinked them back unselfconsciously.

"Of course you would feel the same, sir!"

"You know better than anyone in Jamaica how I much love Elizabeth. You're the only servant left of those who sailed here from England with us. You know how much I doted on my daughter; perhaps too much at times. I tended to overlook her flights of fancy a little too often, but it was only because I loved her too much to chastise her. I would throw myself at the feet of the person who gave her back to me. And that's where the problem lies." He tapped the letter with a finger. "This arrived not long after Garcia left. It's from Elizabeth herself."

Estrella did not try to hide the smile this time. "Oh, sir! 'ow wonderful! Is she coming 'ome soon?"

Swann sighed and took another drink. He looked down at the letter. "I fear not. It seems that she's gotten married."

Estrella squeaked, "Awwww! She wed Mister Turner somewhere else? Without me to help her prepare? Without 'er father to give 'er away?"

Swann looked up at her. "No, it's much worse than that. She didn't marry Turner. She married Jack Sparrow." His face reddened and he downed the rest of the brandy in one gulp. He slammed the glass to the desk, and the fine cut crystal shattered into many shards.

"No, she didn't! Sir, please say that she didn't marry a filthy pirate!" Estrella's eyes filled with tears.

Swann lifted the letter, shaking crystal fragments and drops of brandy all over the blotter. He read it aloud to Estrella. When he was finished, he threw it to the desk and looked up at the tear-stained face of the housemaid.

"I can't begin to imagine what could come to pass if this is true." He slumped in the chair and rubbed his face with both hands. When he had regained his composure, he sat up straight and smiled sadly at the maid. "Now you know why I've been… not quite myself today." He stood up, wobbling slightly. "I've no appetite for supper; I'll not be dining tonight. I'll be in my rooms, Estrella. I'm not to be disturbed. Please clean this up." He gestured toward the broken glass on the desk. "And do not say a word about this to anyone unless you wish to be sacked."

Governor Swann picked up the letter and the half-full decanter of brandy. Swaying gently, he made his way out of the library and up the stairs to his suite of rooms. Estrella looked down at the desk where the letter had been, and began sobbing harder. "No... not to a filthy pirate! Not Elizabeth!"

* * *

Swann sat on the enormous bed leaning against the cushioned, tufted leather head board. His silk-stocking covered legs were stretched out on the bedclothes. The letter lay across his lap. It had been crumpled and flattened out several times until the lines crisscrossing it resembled a map. Swann's powdered wig lay in a dusty heap next to him on the deep red silk duvet. His brocade day jacket dangled from the arm of a carved and upholstered chair, and his heavy silver-buckled shoes had been kicked off onto the Oriental rug. The crystal decanter was perched precariously on the edge of the marble topped bedside table.

Governor Swann stared at the letter, waiting for the answer to come to him. "The right course of action is sure to occur to me soon," he muttered to himself. "Damn! How could Elizabeth have married a pirate? She must be pretending to be happy about such a disgusting match! Surely there's some mistake! Perhaps… perhaps…he forced her to write those words? Does he think that making me believe they're wed will somehow make me pay him the bounty for her safe return? Perhaps…hmm…Elizabeth has always fancied puzzles and codes and such. Could she have tried to hide a message in her letter?"

Swann squinted to read the handwriting in the fading light of dusk. He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, seized the letter and teetered through the French doors onto the balcony that overlooked Port Royal harbor. Looking out to sea, Swann could see several ships approaching or leaving the port.

"Oh, Elizabeth, my dear daughter… you're out there somewhere! Where could you be?"

He sat down on the embroidered cushion of a wicker chair with his back to the sea. Holding the letter out so the last rays of sunset illuminated it, he read it aloud again.

"The postal stamp reads,_ Isla de Tortuga, 26 August, 1746!" _

"This was posted only yesterday!"

"_25 August, 1746_

_Dearest Father;_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I must keep this brief. I am alive and well and quite happy.'"_  
"That doesn't sound like it holds any hidden message, unless she's saying she's happy to be alive."

"'_The adventures I have had since last I saw you would take volumes to record. _

_P.A.B.A.S.D., Father, before you read any further.'"_

"There's a code there, of course. If she used that, _she_ must think its bad news! And if Sparrow read it, he would have no way to know she was warning me!"

"'_I am wed, as of only early yesterday. I wish you had been present at the marriage ceremony, Father. It was unique. My husband is a man you have met before, albeit briefly, Captain Jack Sparrow. I do hope to find a way to see you again Father--'"_

"That's it, right there!" He stabbed the letter with his forefinger. "She's saying she hopes to find a way to escape!"

"'_--but I fear that visiting Port Royal as the wife of a pirate captain might be unwise. Please take care of yourself in my absence. You may write to me care of the innkeeper at the Rose and Ivy Inn on Isla Tortuga. I do not know how often I might collect letters there, but I will watch for your reply as best I am able._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Elizabeth--" _Swann was crossed out_. "—Sparrow'"_

"Ah, there it is! She's being held prisoner at that inn! I'll wager that Sparrow forced her to use his surname. Why didn't that Garcia tell me she was Sparrow's prisoner? If he was so grateful to her for freeing his daughter, why didn't he free _Elizabeth_ in return? Oh dear, oh dear… my poor girl! What should I do first?"

Swann slapped at an insect that buzzed in his ear. He rose and stumbled back inside, closing the French doors behind him. After some fumbling in the near-darkness, he found flint and steel. He used it to light a candle in a wall sconce. The room was so large that the light of one candle did not reach all the corners. But he was able to make his way back to his cushioned seat on the bed.

He groped around the top of the bedside table for the decanter. He raised it to his lips, lowered it, glared at the empty container and tossed it on top of his wig in disgust. The last few drops of brandy dribbled out, mixing with the chalky white powder on the silk coverlet. Swann did not notice.

"Blast! I should call out the entire Navy to scour Tortuga before Sparrow has a chance to whisk her away. Oh…damn! Elizabeth was charged with helping Sparrow to escape."

His face contorted in anguish.

"If Norrington finds her, he'll only bring her back here to hang for her part in that whole debacle. Oh, if only she had wed Norrington to begin with, none of this would have happened! But no, she had to have a blacksmith instead of a Commodore. And now she is the prisoner of a pirate, perhaps even forced to marry him!" His voice cracked as he punched the palm of one hand with the other fist in frustration.

"No time for that now! It can wait until after she's found. Perhaps the King might be convinced to pardon her once all is explained about Beckett and his villainous intentions. What's important now is getting Elizabeth back safely!"

He drummed his fingers on his knee as he thought. "Now who could I call upon to bring Elizabeth home? If that Turner fellow had come back to Port Royal, I could have asked it of him. He would have done anything for her. He went off to rescue her twice and managed it the first time. But the second time, he disappeared and never returned. I'd wager that vile Sparrow killed him… poor lad. He was just a common blacksmith, but he deserved better than to die at the hands of a pirate."

He tapped his chin with a forefinger. "Who else loves my daughter as much as I do? There's Estrella—she's as loyal to Elizabeth as any ladies companion could ever be. But I can't send her on such a dangerous task. She's only a woman, a servant at that, and certainly no match for pirates."

He scratched his balding head as he pondered the problem. "There's that Garcia chap. He practically swore fealty to Elizabeth today He wants nothing more than to serve her for the rest of his life. Perhaps he'd be willing to go… No, I know nothing of the man. For all I know, he'd carry Elizabeth off himself once she's free of Sparrow's grasp."

Swann sighed loudly and reached for the side table again. He remembered the empty decanter when his fingers brushed only the starched lace doily on the table.

"Damn! I don't want to deal with the incompetent staff again tonight. I'll get it myself. I have to do very nearly everything myself these days if I want it done correctly." He swung his feet over the side of the bed, leaned down and fumbled around on the floor for his shoes.

Swann sat up so fast he fell over backwards onto the silk duvet. "That's IT!" he shouted, waving one hand toward the ceiling in triumph. "No one loves my daughter more than I. She's my only child, my only remaining family. I would give my very life for her. There can be no other person more willing to undertake this task. I will be the one to go to Tortuga and rescue Elizabeth!"

* * *

A/N:

Dear Reader:

Yes it's still the same story as the first 96 chapters. We will be going back and forth between Tortuga and Port Royal for a while now.

Observe the locations, dates and times at the beginning of each upcoming chapter. My intention is for that information to help you follow the story without confusion.

--AdhesivePrincess


	98. Chapter 98 Negotiations

_**CH 98 Negotiations **_

_**The Rose and Ivy Inn, Tortuga, Saturday 27 August, 1746, afternoon**_

It took Jack and Lizzie several hours to finish their tale. When Jack reached the point in their story where they first arrived at the inn, he ended with, "And that's when you met my 'cabin boy'! You already know the rest!"

"Was all of that really true?" Sam asked.

Jack looked hurt. "Of course it was! Why doesn't anyone ever believe me?"

Bobby leapt up and dashed around the table to hug her uncle. "_I_ believe you, Uncle Jack! Mama says you always used to exagg...um, make up a lot of things. But I believe every word!"

Blushing, Allie shot a dark look at her youngest. "What I _said_ was that perhaps he embellished some of his tales a bit more than necessary." Bobby remained focused on Jack, ignoring her mother's scolding.

Jack grinned as he gently ruffled his niece's curly hair. "Thank you, lass. You've restored my faith in the future of mankind." His smile faded as he looked up at Allie. "Perhaps a few of my tales of old may have received a bit of shine and polish after a few tellings, just to make 'em more listen-worthy. But this one? If I had embellished upon any of this, I'd be here until a week past forever to tell it all. I left out more than I told. What you heard was just the bare bones of all that happened, and every word I spoke was the truth." He sat up very straight and placed his hand on his chest above his heart to emphasize his words. Lizzie hadn't seen him look so serious since he'd ordered the crew to abandon ship during the Kraken's attack.

Phillip spoke up. "I weren't there for every minute of it, but I swear, the parts I did witness happened just as you heard." He also placed his hand over his heart.

Lizzie added, "I _was_ there for much of it. I promise you, it's all true." She too placed her hand over her heart.

Allie shook her head. Then she grinned at Jack. "I've not ever seen you so serious about _any_ of your tales before. And you've got two sworn witnesses standin' by your story, one of 'em my own father! Either you pay very well, or there really is truth to it." She winked at Jack. "You live a charmed life, Jack Sparrow! That certainly was an amazing chain of adventures! You should write a book!"

Jack relaxed. He turned to Lizzie, laughing. "You heard what she said! You can write, so get to it!"

Allie glanced out the window at the late afternoon sunshine and said, "Oh, dear, it's getting late! I got so caught up in your tale that I completely forgot about starting supper. I'm glad I made plenty of the goat curry! It's been simmerin' all afternoon. Girls, please go get the dishes ready and slice some bread. I'm sure these two are famished after all that talkin'!" Bobby and Sam headed off to the kitchen. Allie stood to follow them.

So soon after reliving all of their adventures, Lizzie's emotions were still running high. Her stomach felt cold and hard, as if she'd swallowed a rock. The thought of food was somewhat nauseating. She shook her head at Allie. "None for me, thank you."

Allie stopped short. "You of all people shouldn't pass up any meals while you're ashore! You need to put more meat on your bones! Is it my cooking? Is it the curry? Don't you like it?" She looked worried.

Eyes wide, Lizzie shook her head and waved her hands before her in appeasement. "Oh no, it's not that, Allie! It was delicious. I must still be full from dinner. I've little appetite at the moment."

Jack made a sad face. "Neither have I, unfortunately. You know how I feel about your cooking. It's a shame to pass up one of your feasts. But there will be some left if we get hungry later. I know you always cook enough to feed the entire Navy, even if they never accept your dinner invitations!" He smiled, and Allie's worried expression dissolved into a grin.

"Aye, I got used to cooking for the officers on the Polaris, and it carried with me when I bought the inn. I've got to have extra food available if guests arrive! I'm sure there will be some left if you two find your appetites later tonight."

* * *

Lizzie stood and stretched, arching her back and extending her arms. Jack watched her, eying up and down her lithe body. A look of smug satisfaction crossed his face. He made a quiet, throaty sound of approval. "Mmmm mmmmm!"

Rising smoothly to his feet, he moved closer to her. "This lot turns in right after sundown. Landlubbers… they've no appreciation of the best time of day!" He smiled wickedly at Lizzie. "I may not be hungry for food right now, but some appetites are never sated. I've got a few suggestions on how we might spend the evening…" he made a meaningful gesture with raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head toward the bedroom above them.

"Give the poor thing a rest, you old billy goat!" Allie laughed. "If you're not going to eat supper with us, why don't you take her into town to celebrate your nuptials _together_? Might be a nice change for her from staring at the ceiling!" Allie suggested. She dared a glance at the furiously blushing Lizzie and winked. Lizzie's eyes widened and a giggle of embarrassment escaped her.

Jack sputtered but recovered quickly. "This…ahem, _billy goat_ has been deprived of any salacious pleasure for…" He feigned counting on his fingers. "…well over eighteen months. That's a very, _very_ long time for said billy goat. I've got a lot of catching up to do. And why am I discussing this with _you_?" He shook his head as he turned back to the still blushing Lizzie.

He leaned close and spoke near her ear. "I think it's a very bad idea to take you into town for a number of reasons that do not need to be elaborated now. Wouldn't you really rather celebrate our nuptials here?" He gestured toward the ceiling once more.

Lizzie turned even pinker. "Shhh!" she whispered. Aloud she said, "Oh, I think that going into town is a grand idea!" She touched his arm and fixed her features into an expression of fervent pleading._ This always worked on father… _She added quietly, "Jack, if you're worried about my safety, remember you'd be right there to protect me!"

He arched one eyebrow in response. "Isn't it odd how that's brought up _now_? And of all the places on earth, why do you want to go celebrate in Tortuga? We could celebrate anywhere we can sail!" he whispered.

"Because that's where we are right now! Oh, please do let's go, Jack!" Lizzie implored.

Allie smiled. "It would cause quite a stir, of that I'm certain! This morning in town the only subject on anyone's tongue was Jack Sparrow's mysterious wife. Everyone's curious about her!" She was enjoying the role of Devil's advocate.

Jack frowned as he looked from Lizzie to Allie to Phillip. "I'm being assaulted on two fronts here. What say you, Mister Wightman? Have you got my back?"

Phillip chuckled. "I well remember my own billy goat days, lad. But the bed with the bride in it will be there later. I say ye should go, Jack! Ye've spent more time on this island than some of the residents! What with yer bein' the only pirate captain that doesn't proclaim to have a home port, it seems you've become an adopted native son on Tortuga. I've heard a few of the island dwellers speakin' of "Our own Jack Sparrow!" I think they're fond o'ye—well, as fond as any of 'em is of any pirate, anyway. I think it's high time that Jack Sparrow escorted his new bride out and showed 'er off!"

Jack smiled broadly at the third-hand praise. "'Our own Jack Sparrow?' You don't say!" He glanced at Lizzie. She was grinning happily at Phillip. Jack blinked and winced. "So much for aiding and abetting my intentions," he grumbled in Phillip's direction. "And tell them that it's _Captain _Jack Sparrow…"

He turned to Lizzie, his face softening and his eyes dark. "I'd _really_ rather stay here…" He reached for her waist as he asked more quietly, "Are you sure you don't want to--?" Lizzie put her hands against his chest, preventing him from pulling her close. "Jack, not in front of others!" she hissed.

"They already know, love, that we know, have known, and will continue to know each other in the knowingest sense of the word …" he murmured as he tried again to draw her to him. Blushing furiously, she slid out of his grasp and seized his hands, pulling them down to his sides and away from her body.

"Later, Jack—in private!" Lizzie hissed, shaking her head. Jack sighed longingly.

He spoke in a low voice. "Your insistence on maintaining the appearance of virtuous modesty is incongruous and unbefitting now that you've been wedded and bedded, love. But thanks to these traitors that call themselves my family, it's clear that we'll not be doing any knowing just at the present…" He stepped back and stuck out his lower lip in an unfeigned pout.

He drew in a deep breath and sighed again. "Having had that opportunity removed _temporarily_ from my grasp," he grinned leeringly at her, "I suppose I should counter with a more acceptable offer. Would you care to accompany me to town to celebrate _our_ nuptials?"

Lizzie beamed. "I would love to! But first, I've got something for you!"

"Really?" Jack replied, a hopeful expression brightening his face.

Allie snickered loudly. "Isn't that what you just refused, Lizzie?"

"Hush, Allie!" Lizzie shot back, embarrassed but smiling. "I _bought_ something for him! You recall, don't you?" Jack's forehead wrinkled in surprise at her words. He looked at her sideways, suspicion in his dark eyes.

Allie smiled and nodded with enthusiasm. "Oh, right! Go on and fetch it, then!" She shooed Lizzie away with her hands.

* * *

Lizzie dashed upstairs to their room. She squeezed the paper wrapped packages until she found the right one. She hurried back downstairs to Jack and placed the parcel in his hands. Suspicious, he held it near his ear and shook it. "Oh, just open it!" she chided. She perched on the edge of a table, smiling in anticipation of his reaction.

Jack pulled out his knife, cut the string and tore the paper away, exposing the lace trimmed shirt and the soft, supple black pants. "What's all this for? What's wrong with m'clothes?" He looked down at himself and plucked at his threadbare shirt and ragged trousers.

Disappointment clouded Lizzie's features. "I bought them because I thought you might enjoy wearing something that's not worn out and in need of repairs."

He looked at her incredulously. Taking her arm, he led her away from the others to a far corner of the room. In a lowered voice, he said, "You spent money on these, Lizzie? Why?"

"I thought you'd like them… I thought you would look nice wearing them." Lizzie said in a forlorn tone.

Jack dropped the clothing on a nearby table. "What do you want?"

"Nothing! I just wanted to bring you a gift, that's all!" Lizzie became defensive. "I didn't know it was going to offend you, or I wouldn't have--"

He interrupted. "It's been over twenty years since anyone's given me a gift that didn't come with strings attached…" he said in a quiet voice. A smile spread across his face. Turning, he seized up the new clothes and ran toward the stairs. Lizzie could hear his boots thumping as he took the steps two at a time.

* * *

Jack returned a short time later. The fresh white shirt fairly glowed against his tanned skin. The lace front and cuffs were still stiff with starch. If the pants were perhaps a tad too tight, he wasn't complaining. He wore his own vest with his sword belt over it, and carried his coat over his arm. His hat was cocked at a jaunty angle. When he reached the table where the three adults were sitting, he struck a pose, awaiting comments.

"Jack, you look dashing!" Lizzie exclaimed, clapping.

"I agree!" said Allie enthusiastically. "I think Lizzie should select a whole wardrobe for you!"

"Ye've always dressed like a fop!" snorted Phillip with a grin. "But ye look almost presentable in clean clothes!"

Jack looked down at himself. "I agree, Mister Wightman, I agree! However now I regret not having taken the time to make repairs on my coat." He held it up before him, displaying the tattered pockets, shredded hem and torn cuffs. "It'll have to do."

Allie stood up. "Perhaps not, Jack. Would you come with me, please?" She headed toward the hall leading to the back of the inn. Jack looked at Lizzie, eyes wide.

Lizzie shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Jack handed her his coat and followed Allie out of the dining room.

* * *


	99. Chapter 99 Providence

Dear Readers:

Happy New Year!

No, I haven't forgotten about you, nor have I abandoned this story. Life simply intruded between me and the story once again. But with the new year, I'm back at my trusty computer working on more chapters. I WILL finish this story in 2010! I must--I've got two more PotC "plot bunnies" running around in my head, and I must write those before the next PotC movie comes out in 2011!

Please leave reviews if you haven't already. I really enjoy reading your comments and opinions. Oh--and as of tonight, the story has over 91,000 hits on its hit counter! Thank you all!!

--AdhesivePrincess

the last half hour of December 31, 2009

* * *

_**Ch 99 Providence**_

_**Port Royal, Jamaica, Saturday 27 August, 1746, early evening**_

A certain amount of alcohol tends to make men feel that they are invincible. Governor Swann had never before partaken of enough spirits to feel so empowered.

He pulled himself to a sitting position on the bed and donned his shoes. Then he began casting about for the equipment necessary to rescue his daughter.

"I'll be facing a villainous pirate! I'll need a weapon—two would be better!" His eyes lighted upon the black lacquered Chinese armoire across the room. He wobbled over to it and opened the doors. He looked through the contents of a drawer until he found what he sought. He pulled out a leather covered box with an inscribed silver plaque attached to the top.

_"To my dear friend W.P. Swann, Esq., MP, upon being elected to the House of Commons. Politics being what they are, you may have need of these. –G. Dewar Bartley, Esq."_ Swann read the plaque aloud, smiling at the memory of his first day in Parliament.

"Business at hand, old boy," he mumbled, shaking his head. He released the latch and flipped open the lid. Inside the box, the red velvet lining cushioned two gleaming pearl-handled dueling flintlocks with elaborately engraved barrels. He lifted them from the box. It took a moment to determine where and how to carry them. "As I recall, pirates wear their weapons tucked into their trouser waists!" Swann declared as he shoved the guns into the top of his pants. It was a tight fit, and he winced as the barrels jabbed him with each step he took.

"A hat—I must have a hat!" Another search through the armoire turned up a wide-brimmed gray hat with a fountain of ostrich feathers atop the crown. "Perfect!" Swann said as he put it on. The hat dropped down over his eyes. He frowned, pulled the hat off and looked inside of it. Finding nothing, he felt his head. "Oh! Of course, the wig is missing!" He crossed to the bed and reached for the wig. Seizing it by a double handful of curls, he plopped it on top of his head, creating a cloud of powder around his face. Without a valet to position it, the heavy wig slipped and slid on his balding head. Swann wrestled with it for several moments before he convinced it to cooperate. Once it finally deigned to stay out of his eyes, he shoved the hat on over it. Then he seized his jacket from the chair and shrugged it on. The act of donning the jacket pulled the wig off backward, starting another dusty contest between man and hairpiece. Eventually Swann freed the wayward wig from the neck of the jacket and convinced it to stay upon his head.

As he turned back toward the sconce, he caught a glimpse of himself in the large gilt-framed mirror across the room. He ventured closer. His hands pushed back his jacket, exposing the pearl pistol handles as he struck a pose. He made a fierce face as he drew a pistol and pointed it at the mirror. "Are you speaking to me?" Swann's head tilted back as he laughed heartily. "It will do you no good to beg for mercy, pirate!"

He nodded in satisfaction and stepped back from the mirror. "I cut a fearsomely handsome figure if I do say so myself! Won't Elizabeth be surprised?" He replaced the pistol in his trouser waist, and moved the candle from the sconce to a candlestick. Lifting the candlestick, he turned to leave. "Mustn't forget this!" he cried as he wobbled back to the bed to grab the decanter.

He leaned heavily upon the stairway railing until he reached the darkened main floor, and kept one hand on the wall as he felt his way to the cellar door. Holding the candle before him, he lurched down the cellar steps with his other arm out to the side for balance.

A dim glow at the opposite end of the wine cellar caught his attention as he entered. A shadow moved on the rear wall. Swann tucked the decanter under the arm that held the candle, and pulled out a pistol with his right hand.

"'Who's there?" he called in a threatening tone. The glow was immediately extinguished, and shuffling noises issued from the darkness. Swann shouted, "Halt or be shot!" A man pulled himself to his feet at the far edge of the circle of Swann's candle light. It was Frye; he was holding a wooden mug.

"Who are you?" Frye challenged.

"Gov'ner Swann! Who are _you_? And what business 'ave you down 'ere?" Swann snapped back. As his temper flared and the alcohol spread through his veins, a long suppressed lower-class accent began to creep into his speech.

"I...uh..." He looked at the incriminating mug in his hand. "I was just bringin' you the brandy you rang for..." Frye replied. He held the mug out to Swann and smiled, feigning innocence.

Swann waved the pistol menacingly. "I didn't ring fer you an' I'm not blind nor a fool! Yer down 'ere drinkin' my stock! Yer a thief! I'll 'ave ye arrested!" Frye took a step toward him. "Stay where y'are!" Swann cocked the pistol to emphasize his intent. It emitted a loud click as the hammer was drawn back. The hand holding the weapon trembled.

Frye didn't hesitate. He threw the tankard at Swann, whose hands were already full of candle, pistol and decanter. Swann instinctively raised his right arm to protect himself. The mug bounced off of his forearm. The heavy brocade fabric of his coat cushioned the blow but did not keep the liquid contents of the mug contained. The sudden movement caused Swann to stagger, and only the intervention of a wine rack kept him upright. Frye stumbled past him and fled between the myriad of racks holding barrels and bottles toward the steps. Swann pointed the pistol and pulled the trigger. The only sound that came from the gun was another loud click. "Damn! It's not loaded!"

Swann shouted "Stop, thief! Someone stop that man!" By the time he reached the foot of the cellar stairs, Frye was nowhere to be seen. He shouted up the stairs, in case Frye had disappeared into the servants' quarters. "Stop that man! Stop 'im, I say!" He received no reply.

Swann sighed heavily and shoved the pistol back into his trousers. "It's so 'ard to find good 'elp these days!" He made to brush the brandy off of his jacket, and wobbled where he stood. Noting the mug on the dirt floor, he bent to retrieve it. Bending over nearly upended him. Aided by the nearby wine rack, he managed to squat slowly to the floor, nab the mug and pull himself upright again. Using other racks for balance along the way he returned to the brandy barrel and filled the mug and decanter. Finding himself unable to carry the candle, the mug and the crystal bottle, he slid the decanter into the pocket of his coat. Then slowly and carefully, he made his unsteady way to the stairs and back up to the library.

* * *

In a boarding house by the docks of Port Royal, Renato addressed his daughter in Portuguese. "Vitória, I will never again stand aside while others determine my fate. I am going to return to the governor's house right now and find some way to make myself useful. Perhaps once he understands that I spoke in earnest today, he will reconsider and allow us to serve his household."

Vitória raised her eyebrows in question. "So late, papa? It is dark outside! He is most likely in bed by now!"

"I cannot wait. Tomorrow is Sunday. The Sabbath is not a day to be seeking employment, even with a governor."

The look Vitória gave him was a mixture of concern and disbelief. He patted her hand and took one last bite of the watery soup that had been their supper. "Don't worry about me. You'll be safe in your room; go upstairs, lock the door and stay there. I will come back tonight and tell you what happened." He patted her hand again and went out into the evening.

Vitória touched her hip. Her dagger was still safely hidden in a pocket sewn inside her skirts. "Father," she murmured to herself, "I fear I would be safer in the streets than you…" She picked up her mug of watered-down wine and the last slice of gritty bread. Then she made her way up to the room. "I think I shall enjoy spending a night all alone..." she murmured as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

It was not long past sunset. Lamp lighters were just beginning to light candles in glass lanterns at the larger intersections. It was a ten minute walk from the docks back to the governor's mansion in the gathering darkness. Renato lifted his hand to reach for the heavy brass door knocker. As he touched it, the knocker was pulled from his grasp as the door opened. A man rushed out and ran headlong into him. He bounced off of the wiry Brazilian, fell down and rolled into the overgrown shrubbery next to the steps.

"Ow! Look out, 'e's mad!" the man shouted as he attempted to untangle himself.

"Who is mad?" Renato queried, leaning over the shrubs. He noticed that the mansion door remained open behind him.

"The gov'ner, that's who! I quit! When Sala hired me, 'e didn't tell me the gov'ner was a madman!"

Renato smiled, and offered a hand to pull the man to his feet. "I commiserate with you, my friend. I once had an unreasonable employer as well."

Through the open door, Renato heard a faint voice shouting "Stop that man! Stop 'im, I say!"

Still holding out his hand, Renato asked, "Are you the cause of the shouting inside?"

Ignoring the hand, Frye struggled to free himself from the bushes. "Lemme go!" He cursed at the shrubs. Tangled in the thorny branches, his oversized livery coat slid off one shoulder. Frye unbuttoned the jacket, twisted skillfully and slipped free of the garment. He rolled to his feet and dashed unsteadily into the darkness, leaving the coat dangling on the bush.

Renato freed the garment from the thorns and looked up at the stars. "Providence has smiled upon me again!" He donned the jacket, brushed leaves and debris from the sleeves and slipped through the open mansion door, closing it softly behind him.

An elderly man carrying a candle shuffled across the otherwise dark entry hall. He was neatly dressed in a black coat and pants. He looked up in surprise when he noticed Renato. He hurried, as much as an old man can hurry, to intercept him.

Renato recognized him as the butler who had admitted them when he and Vitória had called upon the governor earlier that day. He recalled that the older man had seemed confused and distracted. He smiled and bowed. "Forgive me, Mister Sala, but the door was open so I let myself in.

The butler held up the candle and squinted at Renato. "Who are you?" he inquired in a dry, creaky voice.

Renato bowed, and then pulled himself to his full height. "I am the Governor's new manservant. You hired me this afternoon."

The man frowned. "I did? What happened to Frye? Or was it Bryson?"

"I believe he quit with no notice. You _are_ Mister Sala, yes? And you are the butler in charge of the staff?"

"Yes," said the old man replied absently.

"You told me to come tonight after supper. And so I am here!"

"Odd time to start working, but if that's what I said..." He held the candle high and scrutinized Renato's face. "You're not English!"

"No sir, I was born in Brazil and only arrived here in Port Royal this very day."

Sala nodded, a look of satisfaction on his wrinkled face. He replied in Portuguese, "You're not English—maybe you'll be more competent than the English fools who've held the job before you!"

Renato smiled and replied in the same language, "I will endeavor to do my best, sir!"

Sala nodded once and turned away from Renato. He half-gestured toward a closed door across from the entry to the great hall. "He's in his library, been in there all day." He shuffled toward the door. "Come on then, don't keep him waiting!"

Sala led Renato to the library door, and rapped on it. "Sir?"

Muffled thumps and the sounds of hissed curses came from inside the room. "Oh, bother! Just a moment!" More thumps and the sound of footsteps preceded the door opening. A bare-headed Governor Swann stood in the doorway, crumpled hat and wig held behind his back. "What is it?" he snapped. "Oh, Sala, it's you! I thought the household had gone to bed. What's the matter?"

"I'm just bringing in your new valet, sir." He waved a thumb at Renato, who bowed and smiled.

Swann scowled as he stared at Renato's face. "Thank you, Sala. Leave us now." Sala hobbled away. When he was out of sight, the Governor whispered, "Why 'ave you come back?"

Renato bowed. "I returned with the hope of convincing you that I am sincerely indebted to your daughter for saving mine. Truly, my only desire is to serve her, or her family, in repayment for what she has done for me." He stood upright and waited for the Governor's response.

Swann opened the library door wider, and gestured over his shoulder. "Get in 'ere!" he hissed. The strong smell of brandy burned Renato's nostrils as he passed the Governor. Renato's eyes widened, but he said nothing as he entered the library. Swann closed the door behind him.

"I don't know 'ow ye fooled Sala, but yer appearance is providential." Renato darted a quick glance upward in thanks.

"I am happy to be of any service the Governor requires." Renato bowed again, still smiling.

Swann waved a hand at the chair opposite the large teak desk. "It's like this...I 'ave to save Elizabeth, and I need an ally. Sit down, man!"


	100. Chapter 100 Unexpected Gifts

A/N:

Dear Faithful Readers:

Once again I deeply apologize for the long lapse between posting chapters. Let us just say that life has prevented me from writing, and leave it at that.

But you have been reading! After a long absence I was delighted to find that this story's hit counter has reached my goal of 100,000 hits, and continues to climb!

Thank you all!!!!!!

I will continue to work on this whenever I have a few minutes free. I promise I WILL finish it.

--AdhesivePrincess

March 27, 2010

* * *

_**Ch 100 Unexpected Gifts**_

_**The Rose and Ivy Inn, Tortuga, Saturday 27 August, 1746, late afternoon**_

Allie entered the tiny bed chamber first. "Come in, Jack." He followed her.

His gaze immediately alighted on the dark wood armoire that looked so out of place in the small room. He laid a hand on the ornate carving. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "The armoire from the captain's cabin of the Polaris… I haven't seen this in…"

"…seven years." Allie finished for him.

"But how...?" Jack asked.

"After…," she swallowed hard. "After...Steven died...somehow Sam and I got away in the longboat. Papa was manning a fore deck cannon. He saw everything that happened. He said the battle went on all night long. The crew went berserk when they heard that Steven had fallen. They took their revenge on the Spanish ship. Just after sunrise they sent the other ship and her crew to Hell. But they lost 'alf of the crew in the battle. And even though the Polaris remained afloat, she was too badly damaged to sail very far."

She took a deep breath. "Afterward, they...buried Steven at sea... and the other dead men as well. The crew managed to get the ship to Matthew Town port on Great Inagua, but she could go no further. They stripped out everything they could remove from her. Then they towed her out beyond the harbor and scuttled her. Some months later, Papa and the first mate brought this to me," she touched the armoire, "and 'is sea chest and all of my things and Sam's as well. I never got to show you because…"

"…because I never stayed long enough." Jack's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He studied the armoire through narrowed eyes.

Allie nodded. "But today you finally did. I've got something I'd like you to 'ave, Jack." She opened the armoire and lifted a heavy folded bundle of black fabric from a shelf. She held out her arms, offering it to Jack.

Jack took the object gingerly and unfolded it. He drew a sharp breath. "This is Steven's dress coat…" His voice trailed away as he stared at the garment in his hands.

"Aye, that's right. 'E 'ad that tailored to wear whene'er 'e 'ad to meet with 'is superiors after 'e became a privateer. 'E wanted to impress them." She rolled her eyes. "I can still recall 'ow angry I was with 'im when I learned 'ow much 'e'd spent on that." She gestured at the coat and smiled sadly.

Jack held the coat out before him. It was similar in style to his linen coat, long and full skirted, with deep turned-back cuffs. But while Jack's was a dull grayish-brown linen, Steven's was made of finely woven black worsted. An elaborate design of embroidered gold braid curled down the front. A multitude of brass buttons gleamed on each side from lapel to hem and all around the edges of the cuffs. The buttons all bore a single star in their centers.

"The Polaris' standard…" Jack murmured. He closed his eyes tightly, and buried his face in the coat. He quickly lowered it with a scowl. "It doesn't smell like him. Everything he wore always smelled of that wretched Indian tobacco he smoked and those blasted mint leaves he used to chew. Now it just smells like cedar." He gestured toward the cedar-lined armoire. His shoulders sagged, and he heaved a ragged breath. "He really is gone…"

Allie touched his arm. "Aye, Jack, 'e is. I grieved for 'im for a very long time. I used to take this out at night after the girls fell asleep. I would 'old it, and I could still smell 'im and pretend 'e was nearby. One day I realized all I could smell was cedar. 'E wasn't nearby, and 'e wasn't coming back. I was on my own, with two young daughters who needed me. That was the day I pulled on my old sailing trousers and started working on this inn."

Jack handed the coat back to her. "I can't accept this, Allie."

"Why can't ye? I think 'e'd want you to 'ave it, Jack."

He looked at the floor as he spoke, his voice hoarse and choked. "I have no right to wear anything of his. He should be here wearing this, not me. I shouldn't be alive. I certainly shouldn't have married. What right do I have to be happy when he can't be?"

Tears came to Allie's eyes. She dropped the coat onto the bed behind her, and took Jack by the upper arms. She shook him gently, forcing him to look at her. "Jack! Don't be a fool! Do you really think Steven would want you to be miserable forever? If you 'ad been the one to die first, would _you_ 'ave wanted _'im_ to cease livin' as well?"

"No! Of course not!"

"You know perfectly well that Steven would say you're bein' foolish. 'E would want you to be as 'appy as you could be, Jack, and you know it. That's what 'e wanted for you when 'e was alive. 'E often told me 'e wished you would find a wife who would make you as 'appy as 'e said I made 'im. And I think that somehow 'e played a part in makin' that come to pass!"

Jack took a step back and stared at her, frowning. "How so?"

"'ow else could Lizzie 'ave ended up with Steven's sword? It was lost on the ocean floor several miles off the coast of Saint Kitts!"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know, Allie, I just don't know."

Allie picked up the coat and offered it to him. "Please, take it, Jack. I think it'd be fitting for you to 'ave it."

Jack's hands did not move to take the coat. "It pains me to remember… He's...d—he's gone. I…don't like to be reminded of that."

Allie thought for a minute. "My mama once told me that as long as you remember someone you loved, they're never completely gone."

For a long moment Jack said nothing. Finally he nodded his head slowly, and allowed a small, wry smile to occupy his lips. "Wise words, love. Wise words, indeed."

Jack took the coat. He swallowed hard, and looked into Allie's eyes. "Since he… died…" He paused for a long moment. "I haven't been able to look at you and the girls without thinkin' of him. It grieved me so much I couldn't bear it. I'm sorry, Allie."

Allie's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm sorry too, Jack. I knew you were hurtin', but I kept expecting you to get past it. I had to, to stay alive—I just thought you would too."

Jack's eyes clenched shut for a moment before he forced them open again. "There's more. Allie…I…oh, bugger, Allie…I…blamed you." He looked at the floor. "I thought it was your fault."

Allie replied evenly, "I know, Jack."

Jack looked up, startled.

Her eyes were clear. She returned his gaze, her voice steady, almost emotionless. She spoke as if reciting memorized lines. "You thought I 'ad been selfish and insisted on staying aboard after Sam came. If I 'ad only gone to live ashore when she was born, Steven wouldn't 'ave been worryin' about us durin' the attack. And I distracted 'im in the thick of the battle and that's what got 'im killed."

Surprise opened Jack's eyes wide. "How…?"

Allie shook her head. "Doesn't matter 'ow I know. Did _you_ know that Steven _insisted_ that I stay aboard? After Sam was born, I wanted to take 'er ashore where it was safer for us. I asked 'im many times to set us up in a port somewhere like all the other sailors' wives. I begged 'im, Jack, but 'e wouldn't do it. 'e wanted me to stay aboard the Polaris with 'im forever. 'e didn't want to be like 'is father---_your_ father—and leave me alone while 'e sailed. But 'e couldn't make 'imself leave the sea or give up 'is ship. 'e wanted to have it all."

She shrugged and held out her hands, palms up. "What could I do? Was I supposed to mutiny against m' own 'usband? I loved Steven! I was a dutiful wife, Jack, so I did as 'e asked. I was terrified for my baby every time the Polaris was fired on. I thought about takin' Sam and runnin' away each time we made port. But I didn't. I stayed aboard for Steven, because 'e wanted me there. You're right—'e _did_ die because my presence—and Sam's--distracted 'im during that battle. But it wasn't _our _choice to be there!" Tears welled up in her eyes. She inhaled raggedly and began to cry.

Jack blinked in surprise. "No. I didn't know… I had no idea…" He frowned at the armoire behind Allie as he thought aloud. His voice was quiet and angry. "He didn't want to be like our father, but what he did was no better. He as much as held you hostage! And he let me think it was your idea to remain aboard after Sam came..." He punched a fist into the leather-clad palm of his other hand. "The stupid, selfish bugger! I would never have expected that of him!"

A sound penetrated his thoughts. He shook his head to clear it. A weeping Allie stood before him, hands over her face. He stretched out an arm, and touched her shoulder. Allie buried her face against his chest, sobbing. Still holding Steven's coat, Jack wrapped both arms around her and rested his chin on her head. He whispered into her hair, "Allie, I'm so sorry…"

Two tears slipped cautiously from beneath Jack's closed eyelids. Wordlessly, soundlessly, Jack let the pent-up tears of grief and fresh tears of anger flow for his beloved and suddenly imperfect brother.


	101. Chapter 101 The Plan Comes Together

Gentle Readers: I humbly apologize for the long, long delay in posting. I have no excuses; my heart simply wasn't into writing. The recent deluge of requests to continue has prodded me to give it another try. Thank you for sticking with me.

-AdhesivePrincess

on the eve of the release of PotC4

* * *

_**CH 101 The Plan Comes Together**_

_**Port Royal, Jamaica, Saturday 27 August, 1746, evening**_

Swann paced erratically around the well appointed library. He punctuated his words with wild hand gestures and waving arms as he told Renato about the letter from Elizabeth and his plan to save her from the pirates.

"I refuse t'believe t'at my daughter willin'ly married a pirate. I'm certain she's bein' 'eld prisoner! I intend t'go t'Tortuga and rescue 'er m'self." Swann concluded as he perched on the corner of the desk facing Renato. His face was red, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"An admirable plan, sir, and I'm sure that Miss Elizabeth will be most ecstatic to see you again. But if I may, there are perhaps just a few flaws..." Renato offered hesitantly.

"Oh?" Swann took another swig from the decanter. He waved it at Renato, who held the tankard of brandy. "Drink up, man!" Renato nodded, but did not lift the mug.

"First, I do not believe that Miss Elizabeth was being held captive-"

"Of course she is!" Swann roared. "If she wasn't, she would 'ave found a way 'ome months ago! Perhaps Sparrow didn't treat 'er like a prisoner when 'e knew you were watchin'. But you say Elizabeth didn't meet you as you 'ad planned. Sparrow must have 'eld her captive when she tried t' leave! I 'ave to get 'er out o' their filthy company." He lowered his voice. "I'm sure she's ruined, if you know what I'm sayin'. It'll only be by the grace of God if she isn't with child. I'd 'ave to send 'er off to England to a convent to 'ide her shame. But I can't just leave 'er there as their... plaything..." He grimaced and tears came to his eyes. "My poor daughter..."

Renato winced. "I understand fully, Governor, more than you could ever know. But let me assure you, during our travels together I did not see evidence that Miss Elizabeth was anything other than one of the ship's crew. When I took it upon myself to serve her, I discreetly investigated her relationship to the crew. One of the young lads assured me in confidence that she slept alone, away from the rest of the men. And I personally witnessed her zealously defending her virtue against unwanted advances..." He shuddered at the memory of Juan Pardal's final moments. "Quite zealously..."

Swann took a deep drink of brandy. "So much the better if she 'asn't been...violated...but in any measure, I must still rescue my daughter!"

"Of course you must, sir, as any father would! But…" Renato hesitated.

"But what?" Swann demanded.

"What if Miss Elizabeth _did_ by some chance happen to marry Captain Sparrow?" Renato offered cautiously.

"Impossible!" Swann thundered. "She couldn't! Wait—whatd'ye know about this?" Swann leaned toward him.

Renato held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "N..nothing! They most assuredly were not married when I bade farewell to Miss Elizabeth before I left the caravan. She wanted nothing more than to return home."

Swann relaxed a little. "Then if it 'appened, it did so after you left 'er company. But it's impossible—my little girl would never stoop so low as to willingly marry a known criminal!" He paused before adding quietly, "At least I hope she'd have the sense not to let her emotions get the better of her for once." Setting the decanter of brandy on the desk, he squeezed his temples with both hands. "Oh dear God, if she did…it would be the ruin of us all!"

Renato was quiet for a moment. "I…do not understand."

Swann looked up at him. He seemed to be concentrating very hard as he spoke. "If -Elizabeth is married to that pirate, she is now a criminal as well as 'e, I mean _he_. I am the Governor of Jamaica; I am sworn to up_h_old the law, and that includes ordering pirates to be captured and 'anged, blast! I mean _hanged._ This means I must see my own daughter swing from the gallows. If I allow my pirate daughter to remain at large, I would not be performing my sworn duties to King and country. I could well lose my position as Governor and possibly be 'anged m'self for aiding and abetting the pirates. You—you could also be 'anged for associating with pirates."

Renato's eyes grew wide. "Oh! Now I understand! Then we should all hope that this marriage did not really take place!" He thought for a moment. "Perhaps this is some sort of…joke?"

Swann snorted. "Of course, that must be it! Elizabeth 'as always loved to play little pranks. This must be 'er idea of a joke! She's been 'eld captive, and she wanted to alarm me enough to assure that I would see to her rescue! Silly girl!" He laughed aloud and slapped the desk in glee. Suddenly he was serious again. "So- what other flaws did you see in my plans?"

"How will you get to Tortuga? Does the Governor have a vessel at his disposal?"

"I could commandeer a Navy ship, I suppose..." Swann pinched his lower lip as he pondered the question. "…but that would involve Norrington, and that is not acceptable."

He shook his head vigorously and nearly toppled off of the desk.

"Perhaps your lordship could book passage on a merchant vessel?" Renato suggested.

"An excellent idea! I must leave at once!" Swann stood up, and immediately fell back against the desk. "I think I'm gettin' old. I can't seem to keep my footing anymore..." he muttered. He tried to stand again, and sat back down. "I have to get to the dock to get a berth..."

"I will see to your sailing arrangements, sir." Renato bowed slightly as he spoke crisply in his most formal servants' tone.

Swann nodded, falling into his familiar and comfortable role as lord and master of the house. "Very good."

Renato ventured, "Would you not think it would be safer if someone accompanied you to Tortuga? I would be-"

"No!" Swann slammed his fist onto the desk. "This is somethin' I 'ave to do alone. I can't entrust Elizabeth's safety to anyone else!"

Renato looked doubtful. "Sir..." he began.

"I said no!"

Renato raised his hands in submission. "As you wish, sir; I am only concerned for your welfare. Miss Elizabeth would be devastated if you were hurt or killed in an attempt to rescue her."

"I'm not going to get hurt, man! I'm armed to the teeth and ready to take on that Sparrow bastard to get my little girl back!" He pulled back his coat to show Renato the dueling pistols.

"I see no powder and shot, sir..." Renato offered cautiously.

Swann patted his pockets. "Oh bother, you're right!"

"I will see to it, sir."

"Very good."

"You will be leaving in the morning?" Renato inquired.

"Of course not! I'm leaving on tonight's tide as soon as I have a berth!"

"Do you not think it would be best for you to be well-rested when you begin your voyage?"

"Time is of the essence! I can sleep on the ship!" Swann shot back, frowning.

Renato nodded, fighting hard to hide a grimace. "As you wish, sir."

"Any other flaws that need attending?" Swann asked, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

Renato offered, "There's the matter of your clothing. I've not been to Tortuga, but I've seen pirates. The garments you wear now would point you out as a man of wealth among them. You should wear something less...how to say it...opulent than your current apparel to hide your identity."

Swann stared at him. "I don't 'ave any 'less opulent' clothing. I'm the bloody Gov'nor of Jamaica, man! I don't keep rags about!"

"I will see to it, sir."

Swann looked both surprised and relieved. He nodded. "Very good."

Renato ticked off on his fingers, "Powder, shot, clothing, book passage—I believe that once those things are attended to, you will be ready! Here's to your triumphal return with Miss Elizabeth!" He raised the tankard and Swann clumsily bumped the decanter against it before leaning his head back and emptying the last of the contents into his mouth. He did not notice that Renato feigned drinking with his lips sealed tight together.

* * *

"May I ask a question, sir?" Renato queried as he lowered the tankard.

"What?"

"Are any of the male servants near to your height and weight? Might it be possible for you to borrow some of their clothing?"

Swann shook his head so emphatically that he nearly slid off the desk. "No, no, no! None of the other servants must know I'm gone. If word got out that the Gov'nor left without notice it would cause chaos!"

He squared his shoulders and looked intently at Renato. "This is where I truly need your assistance. You must make them believe that I am in my room and refusin' to see anyone until I have returned with Elizabeth."

Renato bowed to the Governor. Bowing hid the concern in his expression. "As you wish, sir. But as I am new to the household, I will need at least one ally on the staff to help me conceal your absence convincingly. Is there someone you might suggest?"

Swann thought for a moment. "Estrella!" He stood and walked over to the bell pull array on the wall near the door. Studying them briefly, he gave one of them a few hard jerks. He turned back to Renato. "She was Elizabeth's lady's maid, and she is now the housekeeper. Been with us forever, it seems." They waited.

A few moments later, Estrella knocked on the library door. "Sir? You rang for me?"

Swann opened the door and gestured for her to enter. She was clad in her night clothes and clutched a dressing gown tightly around herself. She noticed Renato wearing the livery coat of the serving staff. She frowned and her eyebrows rose.

"Who-" she began. Swann cut her off.

"This is the man I spoke of earlier, the last man to see Elizabeth alive." Estrella's eyes widened. She stared at Renato as if she expected him to produce Elizabeth from thin air.

Renato bowed politely to her and held out a hand. "Renato Garcia, at your service, Miss…"

"Estrella Maloney." Estrella said distractedly. She grasped his hand tightly in both of hers and looked him in the eyes. "It's true then? Miss Elizabeth _is_ alive?"

Renato nodded. "She was when last I saw her. It appears, Miss Maloney, that we are about to become confederates in her rescue."

Estrella's eyes grew even wider as she jerked her hands away from him. "_We_ are going off to rescue Miss Elizabeth?" Her voice cracked on a high note as she finished the sentence.

"Not exactly," Renato's voice was soothing. "That task is something her father strongly believes is his duty. _We_ are going to provide the means for him to be away yet not be missed."

Estrella turned to Swann. "Governor? You want _us_ to dissemble and misrepresent on your behalf?" Her expression was half-shocked, half-amused.

"Yes, just as you did the other time. At least this time you'll 'ave 'elp. As I told you this evening, I'll be in m' rooms until further notice. I'm distraught over news I've received and I'm not to be disturbed. Leave m' meals at the door and come back for the dishes later. No one is to approach m' rooms but the two o' you." Swann winked at her.

Estrella replied in a serious voice, "I will do whatever is necessary to help bring Miss Elizabeth home again, sir." She curtseyed to Swann and left the room.

Renato offered, "If you won't have need of me for the moment, sir...?" Swann waved a hand in the air to dismiss him. Renato bowed to Swann and then followed her.

* * *

Outside the library, Estrella was waiting for him. She said, "You _saw_ Elizabeth? She's well and unharmed?"

"Yes. I saw her just a week ago. She was in fine health when we parted company, and was anxious to return to her home in Port Royal. She did, however, neglect to mention that her home was the Governor's mansion..." He smiled wryly.

"Do you think 'e can save 'her from those awful pirates?"

"With our help, I believe it is possible. We've got our orders. Shall we get to work?

"What needs doin' first?"

"Where can we find the Governor some less conspicuous clothing?"

Estrella thought for a moment. "Nobody ever cleared out Burn's cottage after he died. If you're not afraid o'ghosts, perhaps we can find something there come morning."

"Burns? Ghosts?" Renato inquired.

"Burns was our last gardener. Shot 'imself after bein' jilted by a village girl a few months back. O' course, you know that the soul of one who does 'imself in remains where the deed was done! 'e had no family, so nobody claimed 'is belongings. None of the staff has been willing to go into the cottage to empty it out after 'is body was found. We haven't 'ad a gardener since…"

"Was he a small man?"

"No, 'e was big and burly. Not the type that anyone would think would kill 'imself over a girl."

Renato picked up the candleholder. "Perfect! Let us go!"

Estrella paled. "Go? Into 'is cottage? Now? At night?" Her voice rose higher with each question.

"Now is the best time!" Renato replied with a smile. "The household staff have all retired for the evening, have they not? None will be going about their duties to witness us! Now where is this cottage? And have you a lantern?"

* * *

Estrella left after instructing Renato to wait right where he was. She returned a short while later, hastily dressed. "I'll get ye to the cottage, but you're goin' in alone!" A wooden cross dangled from a leather cord around her neck.

She gestured to Renato to follow her down the hall into the darkened servant's pantry. She felt about in a cupboard until she found what she sought. She lifted a dark lantern from the shelf and led Renato into the kitchen. Striking flint and steel, she lit the wick of the lantern and then raised the tin shield to hide the lantern's light. She unbarred the kitchen door and led him outside. "It's this way!" she hissed.

Clusters of quick-moving clouds covered the stars and filtered the moonlight, making it difficult to see details. Renato followed Estrella across the grounds toward the silhouettes of several small cottages some distance from the mansion. Dim candle light glowed from some of their windows. "Who lives there?" Renato asked.

As she replied, Estrella pointed at various shapes in the darkness. "The little building close to the manor is the kitchen. The stable hands and the kitchen staff live in those little cottages. The head groom lives in the stable above 'is horses. Gardener, when we 'ave one, lives next to the propagating 'ouse and the potting shed. Just the cook, the Gov'nor's valet, Mister Saya and I 'ave rooms in the big 'ouse."

Estrella stopped before one of the buildings. "'Ere it is!" she said as she handed him the dark lantern. "Be quick about it, and watch yerself—'is accursed spirit's still in there!" One hand clutched at the cross around her neck and gripped it tight.

Renato found the latch and pushed. The door squeaked a bit, but opened easily. He slipped inside and closed it. He slid down the lantern's shield just enough to illuminate what was immediately before him.

The cottage was a one room building with a cot on one side, a table and two chairs on the other and a fireplace in the middle. Two cupboards by the table and one trunk at the bedside were the only storage in the cottage. Renato searched the cupboards, but found nothing useful.

He crossed the room and knelt in front of the trunk. There was a lock on the hasp, but it was open. He removed it and lifted the lid. Inside, he found wadded-up clothing that appeared to have been pawed through and replaced in haste. "Perfect!" he breathed as he removed a worn and dirty shirt, pants, an over shirt and a pair of old shoes.

As he lifted the clothes, he noticed something on the floor against the side of the trunk. He lay the clothing on the floor, and held the dark lantern so it shone on the floor. The object he had seen was a leather bag. The drawstring was loose and the mouth of the bag was open. Several lead balls lay on the floor near the opening. Next to that was another smaller bag that contained gunpowder. Several small pieces of torn up rags had been carelessly dropped on top of the other objects. Lifting the larger bag, he looked inside. He found several more pieces of shot and a few more scraps of cloth. After setting the lantern on the floor, he scooped up all the loose pistol shot, the rags and the bag of powder. He put everything into the larger bag. Whispering a quick prayer of thanks, he stuffed the ammunition into a pocket of his jacket and closed the trunk.

Glancing up he spied a hat hanging from one of the short bed posts. He seized it and added it to the pile of clothes. He looked around for a bag but found none. He removed the sheet from the bed and tied everything up in it. As he bent to pick up the lantern from next to the trunk, he noticed a large dark stain on the cottage floor. Renato shook his head sadly. "Ah, my friend, no loss is worth taking your own life. May your spirit find rest..." he breathed. He stood upright, lifted the makeshift sack and prepared to leave. He stopped in mid-step and lowered the sack to the floor. A smile spread across his face. "...but not quite yet."

He lowered the shield on the dark lantern until the entire room was dimly lit. Placing the lantern on the floor behind him, he mimicked the walk of an injured man as he passed back and forth before the window a few times. He could see his own shadow cast on the wall and window, tall and grotesque in the waving lantern light. Crossing back to the bed he closed the lantern's cover, seized the sack and lantern and hurried to the door.

Outside he found Estrella some distance away huddled by a tree. Her face was buried in her hands. She squeaked as he approached. "Oh! It's you! I thought you'd been taken by the ghost! I could see 'im plain as day dancin' around while you were in there!"

Renato simply smiled. "He seemed to avoid me—I did not see him at all." He held up the sack. "I have what the Governor needs. Let us return to the library." Estrella did not have to be told twice. She hurried back to the mansion as fast as her slippered feet could take her.

* * *

Dark Lantern—a lantern with a sliding shield (similar to a collapsible drinking cup) which surrounds the wick or candle in the center. Sliding the shield up and down allows differing amounts of light to escape. Dark lanterns were convenient because they could be temporarily darkened without extinguishing the flame.


	102. Chapter 102 Changes

Dear Readers_:_

Thank you all ever so much for the kind words in response to Chapter 101. I especially appreciated the encouragement to keep going in the face of my long dry spell. I think I figured out what part of my writers' block problem was-the anticipation/fear of the release of PotC 4! I went to see it (in costume, at midnight of opening day...) with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Afterward I realized that I had been afraid that the new female lead would be superior to Elizabeth! I was relieved to be proven quite wrong, and soon I found my motivation to write began to return. Sorry, Angelica, while you were a very interesting pirate character, you won't be appearing in any of my future stories as a love interest for Captain Jack Sparrow!

-a much relieved AdhesivePrincess

June 9, 2011

_**Ch 102 Changes**_

_**The Rose and Ivy Inn, Tortuga, Saturday 27 August, 1746, afternoon**_

In the kitchen, Sam and Bobby waited for their mother to appear. The dishes were ready to receive the curry. The bread was sliced and neatly stacked on a plate. The small butter bowl had been filled from the larger pottery cooling crock in the pantry. Everything was prepared. But Allie didn't come. Sam busied herself by making tea.

While Sam's back was turned, Bobby slipped out of the kitchen. She crept down the short hallway and peeked into the open door of her mother's room. What she saw made her clap a hand over her mouth. She hurried back to the kitchen.

"Sam!" she whispered. "Uncle Jack is holding that old black coat with all the pretty braid. And he and Mama are both crying! What's wrong? What happened?"

Sam turned to her sister with a wide smile on her face. "I don't expect you to understand this, but that's all good news!"

Bobby frowned. "Why is it good news if they're crying?"

"I can't explain it, Bobby. But it is. You'll see." She spontaneously hugged her surprised little sister, and just as quickly turned away as the kettle began to whistle.

Out in the dining room, Lizzie and Phillip waited in silence, unsure of what to expect next. Would Jack come storming out and insist on leaving immediately? Or did Allie have a figurative hidden card up her sleeve?

Tired of trying to guess what was going on between Jack and his sister-in-law, Lizzie allowed her mind to wander. She remembered the jewelry she had hidden in the drawer upstairs. _Rubies and blue silk will look nice together..._

"I'll be right back, Phillip!" She hurried up to the bedroom, found the jewelry and put it in her vest pocket. When she returned to the dining room, Phillip was still seated quietly at the table alone. She looked questioningly toward the door that led to the back of the inn. Phillip shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. Lizzie took her seat at the table. For several minutes, the ticking of the clock on the wall behind the bar was the only sound in the room. Finally Lizzie got up. "I can't stand the suspense any longer. What could be keeping them?"

Phillip waved a pointed finger toward the back of the inn. "Go find out then, and don't forget to come back and tell me!"

Lizzie walked around the bar and down the short hallway to the kitchen. She entered the room just in time to see Sam give Bobby a quick hug. As Lizzie cleared her throat, Bobby spun around to face her.

"Oh, Aunt Lizzie! They're-" she began. Sam grabbed her little sister by one shoulder and swiftly plopped the other hand across Bobby's mouth. Bent over Bobby, she smiled up at Lizzie.

"Everything's going to be fine, Aunt Lizzie!" Her smile fairly lit the room. "You'll see, soon enough!"

Bobby struggled unsuccessfully to free herself from her sister's grasp. A small whimper escaped her as Sam tightened her grip. Sam leaned over Bobby's shoulder to look into her face. "Hush, you. For just this once, hush your mouth, don't say a word and don't ask questions. Just be quiet. Please?"

Bobby didn't reply. Sam repeated, "Please? If not for me, will you do it for Aunt Lizzie?" Bobby rolled her eyes up to look first at her aunt, then her sister. After a moment she nodded.

Sam let her go and stood up straight. Bobby turned around to glare at her. "I didn't think you were that strong!" she hissed angrily as she rubbed the recently released shoulder. Sam spun Bobby around to face the table where the bread and dishes awaited their attention. Lizzie opened her mouth to ask Sam what was going on. Sam caught her eye and made wide eyes at her, shaking her head to indicate that Lizzie shouldn't speak. Over the top of Bobby's head she silently mouthed the words "Not now."

* * *

After a few moments of unrestrained sobbing, Allie calmed down enough to pull away from Jack. She dabbed her eyes and wiped her face with her apron before looking up at him. When she did so, she noticed the faint tracks of dried tears on his cheeks. As she opened her mouth to speak, he pointed a finger at her and scowled. "Not a word about this, ever, d'ye hear me? Not one word. It's a good thing the scoundrel isn't here right this instant or I'd thrash him myself! What he did to you was wrong, savvy?" His voice was a low strained rumble; he sounded more enraged than Allie had ever heard him.

Allie shook her head fiercely. "It's not that simple, Jack!"

Jack hissed, "At the heart of it, he kept you a prisoner! How can you forgive him for that?"

Her voice softened. "He cared deeply for me, Jack. Despite everything, I always knew that. He only wanted to make sure I was safe. He did the best that he could the only way he knew how. He just didn't consider that happiness and safety don't always go hand in hand."

Jack frowned. "But…" He stopped. A sigh escaped him. "Fair enough." He shook his head. "I'd still like to thrash 'im, for all the trouble he's caused." Allie couldn't help but giggle.

"So now you're angry with 'im? That's good! The anger'll ease the grief." Jack looked up in surprise, and she nodded emphatically. Jack frowned and shook his head in disagreement—or was it confusion?

"Well, it did for me!" she finished and nodded again. Jack just shrugged.

He dropped the coat on the bed and wiped the traces of salt off his face with his hands. He examined his hands and then rubbed underneath his eyes with his fingers. He repeated the action several times, wiping his hands on his pants until the fingers came away clean. Looking around the room he asked Allie, "Do you have any kohl?"

She responded by pointing to a sooty glass candle shade next to the bed. "There's yer kohl. There's butter in the kitchen pantry to mix with it." She smiled at him. "But first, I have somethin' else for you." At Jack's look of surprise, she replied, "I've been waitin' a long, long time for this! I'm not givin' you another chance to slip away until I'm finished!"

She reached into another cupboard of the armoire and pulled out a pair of black leather boots. "I'm sorry, but the hat went missing after the battle." She held the boots out to Jack, who stood motionless. "Don't give me another argument..." she warned.

Jack shook himself as if he was just waking up. "I can't wear those."

Allie frowned. "Don't argue with me, Jack…" she threatened.

Jack shook his head. "I mean it. I could never fill Steven's boots!"

Allie's face relaxed into a smile. "Aye, yer brother's boots certainly are goin' to be some big ones to fill!" she laughed.

Jack's braids rustled as he shook his head more vigorously. "No, that's not what I'm saying! Those are bound to be too big! Steven was taller and heavier than me."

Allie giggled and held the boots out again. "Oh! Now I see what you mean! Give'em a try, leastways. If they don't fit ye, maybe you and Lizzie'll have a son with big feet someday!" Jack took the boots with one hand and shook a fist at her with the other.

"Quit cursing me, woman!" he snorted, frowning. Then he pulled a grimace and shrugged.

"Fine, I'll take the boots. Maybe I can use'em as longboats for the Pearl!"

Allie smiled. "As long as you take them, Jack." She studied him for a moment. "Well, I'd best get back to readyin' supper." She patted his arm. "I'm very glad you stayed, Jack." Before he could respond, she hugged him quickly and left the room.

* * *

Allie entered the kitchen with reddened eyes and a huge smile on her face. Sam cast a warning glance at Bobby. The younger girl said nothing, but Lizzie could tell she was bursting with… news? Questions? Something was making her rock anxiously from foot to foot, but she was uncharacteristically quiet. Sam asked, "Is all well with Uncle Jack, mum?"

Allie continued to smile. "I believe so, Samantha dear! I believe it finally is." She began spooning curry into the bowls. "Come girls, and Lizzie, let's get supper on the table. Jack should be joining us shortly." The girls seized bowls and butter, and left the kitchen. Still confused, Lizzie picked up the plate of bread and followed them into the dining room.

* * *

Jack put down the boots and took another moment to wipe his face again. He peered at his reflection in the shiny brass reflector on the candle shade. When he was finally satisfied that his cheeks would not betray his earlier emotions, he peeked out of the bedroom and listened. Satisfied that the kitchen was empty, he crossed the hall and headed straight for the pantry.

He scooped up a tiny amount of butter from the crock with one finger and returned to Allie's room. Using a different finger, he swiped some of the soot from the candle shade and wiped it off in the palm of his other hand. Then he mixed the butter with the soot until he had created a small amount of greasy black paste. Using the tip of his smallest finger, he carefully applied the paste beneath both of his eyes. He checked his reflection using the candle reflector again. "Who needs a mirror?" he asked himself with a grin, satisfied with what he saw.

"Lizzie, are you sure you won't join us for supper?" Allie asked as she put bowls of curry on the table.

"Thank you, Allie, but no. To be honest, telling our story has rather put off my appetite for a bit. I'm sure I'll be hungry later. Right now I just want to go into town. Perhaps I can get Mister Walton to let me have that dress-"

"What dress?" Jack asked as he came out from behind the bar. Everyone turned to look at him.

The white lace of the shirt spread out over the gold braid that edged the front of the black coat. The shiny black pants were tucked into equally shiny black high-topped boots. The cuffs of the boots were folded over nearly half the length of Jack's calves.

The fresh application of kohl accented his dark eyes, which twinkled with mischief and showed no sign of the recent tears.

"What dress?" he asked again.

Lizzie was the first to recover enough to speak. "A dress that is worthy of being seen with that magnificent uniform, Captain Sparrow!" Her smile was dazzling.

Sam leapt to her feet. "Uncle Jack, you look wonderful in-" She stopped, uncertain. She glanced at her mother, then back at Jack.

"In your father's coat?" Jack finished for her.

"Yes! In Da's coat!" Sam replied. Throwing manners and social graces to the wind, she ran to Jack and threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Uncle Jack..." she sighed happily.

Bobby looked confused, but she was not about to be left out of whatever was happening. She hurried to Jack and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Me too!" she giggled.

When Jack finally disentangled himself from his nieces, he stepped forward into the dining room until he reached the table where everyone had been sitting. Allie leaned over the table, peering at his feet. "Well?" she asked.

Jack held up a foot, displaying one of the boots. "Either I've grown, or these have shrunk! They fit me almost as well as m'own boots."

"Those _are_ your own boots now, Jack..." Allie said softly.

Jack smiled a small, wistful smile. "I know, Allie. But it's going to take me some time to get used to that..." His smile grew larger. "And I suppose I'll still need to order new longboats for the Pearl!" Allie responded with an amused snort of laughter.

Lizzie had picked up immediately on the origin of Jack's new clothing. She smiled at him. "You look dashing, Jack!"

Jack spun on his heel, holding his arms out to the sides. The skirts of the coat billowed as he turned. "I do, don't I?" he laughed. "So once again, what's this about a dress?"

Lizzie replied before Allie could. "I saw a pretty frock in a shop in town this morning. It would be perfect to wear tonight, especially now!" She made a graceful gesture with one hand, waving from Jack's head down to his feet.

Jack grinned at the motion she made. "A frock, eh? Oh, alright. If this is a celebration, I suppose it calls for dress clothes. The shops on Tortuga keep unusual hours, and most bar their doors before sunset. If we hurry, we might get there in time, savvy?" He extended one hand toward the front door. "After you!" Lizzie rose from her seat.

Allie said, "I expect you'll be back late. The curry will be on the stove. And you know where your room is." She smiled. "Have a lovely evening!"

Phillip, who had been watching quietly, snorted. "As lovely an evening as a body can have in stinkin' Tortuga, anyway!" He winked at Lizzie. "Keep yer foppish husband out of trouble, y'hear?"

Lizzie laughed. "I'll try, Phillip! I'll try!" She left the inn, Jack right on her heels.

* * *

Jack stopped halfway across the garden. Lizzie looked back and found him staring up at the sky.

"'s going to rain soon. Squall's coming."

Lizzie looked up. She saw nothing unusual in the sky. "What makes you say that?"

"The color of the sky, the shape of the clouds and the way they're moving. And I can smell it. Can't you?"

"No."

"You will. You'll learn after you've spent more time at sea."

The two miles to town seemed to fly by as Jack and Lizzie walked down the cart path. The sun began to sink in the sky, and the shadows across the path grew longer and thicker. Jack kept a fast pace; at times Lizzie had to jog to keep up with him.

They traveled in silence for several minutes. Jack broke the quiet by asking, "So why do you _really_ want to go into town? You've already seen Tortuga at its best, which also happens to be its worst. There must be another reason..." He glanced at her sideways, and was rewarded by her grimace. "Aha! I knew it!" He laughed. "Come on, out with it!"

Lizzie pulled a face. "This morning, three women came up to us on the street and said all sorts of terrible things about Jack Sparrow's wife. According to them, I'm a hideously ugly spell-casting witch, complete with hairy warts. I want to teach them a lesson about insulting me!"

Jack's forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. "These women...did one happen to have red hair?"

"Yes, one was a redhead."

"And another one was tall and blonde?"

"Yes. Why? Are they friends of yours?" Lizzie knew perfectly well who they were. But she couldn't resist the little verbal dig.

"I wouldn't exactly say they're friends, but I've known them both for several years..."

"You're not going to know them any more!" Lizzie giggled a little at her own joke.

Jack snorted. "True, love, but one can't deny the past." They walked quietly for a few moments longer. "So—you intend to tell off the whores what insulted you?"

"Yes! They need to learn some manners."

Jack reached for Lizzie's arm and stopped her in mid-step. As she halted, he turned her to face him. "Love, you can't just swagger into town and start a row with Scarlet and Giselle. They're something of high society in Tortuga..."

Lizzie barked a high-pitched laugh of surprise. "High society? They're strumpets, Jack! Common whores! I'm the daughter of-"

He cut her off. "—you're a pirate, Lizzie. You're the wife of a pirate captain, true, but nothing more than that. You're not above them. Not any more. There are more layers to social hierarchy than just the rich, the working class and the poor."

"But..." She was at a loss for words. "What are you saying? That they're my equals?"

"Mayhaps they're even above you. Everywhere on earth, well-to-do merchants are always granted respect and social status. A prostitute is, in a manner of speaking, a merchant, savvy? The more money she makes, the more respected she becomes. In Tortuga, those two are a near equivalent to your Port Royal society matrons. Here, pirate captains could be considered analogous to your Naval captains, who, if I'm not mistaken, are lower in social rank than wealthy merchants. So I'd assume that being the wife of a pirate captain would be akin to being a navy captain's wife."

Lizzie sputtered in astonishment. "I don't believe this. I'm being lectured on social classes by a pirate!"

"It often pays to understand the rules of society even when one doesn't belong to it."

Lizzie's answer was to shake her head in disbelief.

"Life isn't as simple as you'd like to think it is, Lizzie. And the fact that you were born a governor's daughter no longer matters. What matters now is who you are, not who you were. Come to think of it, who you were is a danger to who you are now…"

She turned away from him and resumed walking toward town. Jack did not move.

"I'm simply attempting to keep you from attacking those two and getting cut up by their loyal followers."

She stopped short and spun around to face him. "What?"

"In Port Royal, would a man not come to the defense of a woman of equal or higher status? The same happens here, love. And you'd be on the losing side."

"Even with you defending me?"

"Even so."

Lizzie bit her lip in frustration. "But... I can't just let them get by with all the things they said about me!"

Jack was silent for a while. "Perhaps simply showing them how wrong they are might work better than beating them for what they said..."

Lizzie harrumphed and began walking again. Jack easily kept pace with her. After a few minutes she began to smile. "I think that might just work!"

Half a mile later, Jack asked Lizzie another question. "Whatever made you decide to buy these clothes for me this morning?"

"I simply wanted to bring you a gift, Jack. A token of my deep affection for you."

He half-smiled, and his eyes twinkled above the kohl. "Uh huh..." he mused in a disbelieving tone.

Lizzie made a face at him. "Well, they _were_ going to be part of my apology to you. But I didn't get the chance to give them to you at the time..."

Jack laughed out loud. "I prefer the apology gift you gave me instead!"

She blushed in response. Jack put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. They fell into step together. "If I'd managed to leave before you returned, you'd have never seen me again."

Without looking up at him, Lizzie replied, "I'm glad you didn't leave. I'd be lost without you."

Jack's reply was simple. "Aye."

When they were almost to the docks, Jack stopped. "This way!" he said. He headed into the woods that lined the road on the inland side. Puzzled, Lizzie followed.

Jack led her through the woods. It was almost dark under the trees, but Lizzie could see that they were following a narrow but well worn foot path. "Where are we going?" she hissed.

"This is the back way into town. Less chance of attracting attention this way," he answered. "Here we are! Which shop is it you want?"

Lizzie could see the backs of buildings in the fading light of dusk. She could also smell the garbage and feces that had been dumped in the woods behind those buildings. "The frock is at Walton's trading post," she sniffed.

"Hmmm...this way!" Jack led her past several buildings until he found an alley. "Come on!" Lizzie hung back for a moment, remembering what she'd seen the last time she set foot in a Tortuga alley. But Jack was almost out of sight so she hurried after him. To her immense relief, the alley was empty.

At the mouth of the alley, Jack stopped. "Put your hair up," he instructed. Lizzie tucked her hair under her hat. He pointed. "It's right around this corner. You go in first. I'll be along shortly." Lizzie looked alarmed. "It's alright. Just don't want to attract any attention, that's all. "Now, go!" Jack patted her shoulder. Lizzie stepped out of the alley and hurried to the door of the shop.

* * *

A/N: "to fill someone's boots" means to take the place of another. "Having large/big boots to fill" means that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to adequately take the place of that person.


	103. Chapter 103 On The Way

Dear readers:

I have no excuses. I just haven't worked on this story. I felt ashamed when I realized the last update was posted in June of 2011. I have thought about it a lot, and the occasional reviews it has gotten have kept the guilt over not finishing it alive and well. :) Reviews may make me write more — keep'em coming!

The last time I even touched the story was in early January 2012, on the aft deck of a cruise ship in the Bahamas while staring into the wake foam hoping for inspiration. Just FYI, a cruise ship is a lousy place to try to write PotC fiction-too noisy, too modern, too many kids.

Anyway, I'm working on it again now, and as an apology for my laziness, here's a new chapter, on the eve of the Mayan End of the World.

-AdhesivePrincess

December 20, 2012

**_CH 103 On the Way_**

**_Port Royal, Jamaica, Saturday 27 August, 1746, evening_**

Renato returned to the library and knocked on the door. "'oo's there?" came the reply from inside.

"Renato!" he whispered.

"Come in." Renato did so, and found the Governor slouching behind his desk in the leather chair. He appeared to be having a difficult time remaining on the slippery seat.

"Did ye find what ye sought?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Renato replied. He leaned across the large desk and held out the sack containing the clothing. As Swann reached for it, he slid off the chair onto the floor. "Blast!" he muttered from under the desk. A moment later his head appeared followed by his hands and shoulders as he used the heavy desk to leverage himself to his feet. He clung to it for support with one hand and took the sack from Renato with the other. Gripping it tight, he collapsed back into the chair and resumed his battle with gravity and slick leather.

"Inside there is a full change of clothing, and I have here-" Renato pulled the bag of powder, shot and wadding from his pocket, "—the ammunition you need." He placed the bag on the desk. "But sir-" he began, "-are you certain that you must leave tonight? You would be refreshed after a night's sleep—"

Swann scowled at him. "Do you think I could sleep knowin' my Elizabeth is so close and in danger? It's only two days' sailin' to Tortuga. I won't rest until she's safe!" He began to strip off his clothing, dropping each piece on the floor as he removed it. "I'm leavin' as soon as I've changed my garments. Ugh!" He had taken the shirt out of the sack. The pungent odor of musty, stale sweat filled the room. He held the stained and fraying shirt out at arms' length with two fingers. "Couldn't ye find anythin' 'at smelled better 'an this?"

Renato shook his head. "I'm afraid not, sir. Without involving the other servants, my choices were quite limited."

Swann wrinkled his nose and glared at the shirt. "I 'ave to do this fer Elizabeth", he proclaimed in grumbled tones. He clumsily doffed his white linen shirt and pulled the grimy, malodorous one over his head. The shirt hung down past his knees. The ragged cuffs dangled over his fingertips. He held his arms out to his sides and looked down at himself. He grimaced as he reached into the sack for the pants. "I hope the trousers are smaller!" They weren't. Swann held them up in front of himself. The waist of the pants came up to his armpits while the ragged hems dragged on the floor.

Renato clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "If you please, sir, allow me?" He held out his hand. Swann handed him the trousers. Renato pulled a small folding knife from his pocket. He quickly cut several inches off the top of the pants, leaving a rough, unsewn edge. He sliced a few evenly spaced slits around the cut edge. Then he wove the strip of fabric that he had removed through the slits, turning it into a crude sash. He handed the pants to Swann, and dropped the knife back into his own pocket.

The Governor seemed to have some difficulty removing his own trousers. When he lifted one foot he teetered and fell against the desk. After a few tries, he gave up and sat on the floor to pull the pants down. It was only then that he realized he still wore his shoes, which were buckled on and now inside the legs of the inside-out pants. He waved his hands in frustration. "Ohhhh! Blast! Do something! You're supposed to be m' valet!"

Renato hurried around the desk and got the Governor's shoes off his feet. Swann managed to remove the pants by himself. When he dropped them on the floor, a soft clinking emanated from them. Swann fumbled in the pockets and pulled out a small leather bag. "Goin' to need money fer passage..." He waved the bag at Renato, who took it and laid it on the desk. In turn, Renato handed him the gardener's trousers. Swann wriggled his feet and legs into them while still seated on the floor of the library. Renato held out a hand and pulled the inebriated Governor of Jamaica to his bare feet.

While Swann held onto the desk with one hand to steady himself, Renato pulled the ends of the cut-off waistband together and tied them in a knot. "There! They will stay up now!" He stepped back and looked at Swann. Barefoot, bareheaded and wearing dirty, overly large clothing, he no longer resembled the Governor of anything. Renato smiled. "I think this disguise will be more than adequate!" he announced, handing Swann the small leather bag. Swann pocketed it and patted the pocket. Renato pulled the over shirt and shoes from the sack and gave them to him. Swann donned the tunic and sank into the desk chair.

The shoes proved to be the most difficult part of the costume. He could not remain in the slippery leather chair and lean over to button the shoes at the same time. Renato stepped forward again and assisted him with them. When they were fastened, he helped the Governor to his feet once more and handed him the wide-brimmed floppy hat. At least that fit him properly. The shoes were too large and served to further destabilize Swann's drunken gait.

Swann looked down at himself. "I must look like a lad wearin' 'is dad's clothes!" He chuckled, and then sniffed. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "But m'dad never smelled like _this_!" He looked up at Renato. "Let's get on with this! 'ave you got my passage booked?"

Renato shook his head. "Not yet, sir. _Are you certain-"_

"_Yes!"_ Swann replied testily. "You can't change m'mind now."

"Yes, sir." Renato replied in a reluctant tone. He handed Swann the bag of shot and powder. Swann tucked it into a pocket of the over shirt.

"Are you familiar with how to load your guns, sir?" Renato asked.

"Of course!" Swann answered indignantly. "At least I think so. It has been some time..." His voice trailed away.

"Just remember—powder, shot, wadding" Renato instructed. "Remember 'P' 'S' 'W'."

Swann nodded. "P.S.W. Got it." He stepped toward the library door. Renato opened it and stepped aside, letting the Governor go through first. Estrella was waiting in the hall. She stifled first a startled squeak, and then a giggle.

"Oh, sir! I didn't recognize you at first!" she whispered.

"Good!" Swann smiled. "Make certain that no one knows I'm gone."

Estrella nodded. "Yes sir!"

As he turned toward the door, Estrella added, "Good luck, sir! Bring our Elizabeth home safe and sound!"

Swann nodded somberly. "I will!" He walked unsteadily toward the door of the mansion.

Renato removed the livery jacket and handed it to Estrella. "I should not wear this while I'm out in public with him. Hide his clothing—it is all over the library floor. I will return as soon as I can."

"I'll wait up and let you in. God willing, the Governor will bring Miss Elizabeth back soon!"

Renato nodded in agreement then hurried off to catch up with Governor Swann.

The walk down to the docks took longer than Renato had expected. The Governor himself was the delay. He simply could not pilot himself in a straight line. Too much brandy and outsized shoes combined caused him extreme mobility problems. Several men they passed along the way jeered and called out insults toward the ragged, staggering man and his companion. Luckily for Renato and Swann, none of the men threatened them further. Renato murmured mostly to himself, "They must think us too poor to bother robbing."

When they finally reached the docks it was some time after eight o'clock. There was no harbormaster in the shanty. As Renato looked around for someone who might help him, the Governor swayed from side to side. Renato took a firm hold on Swann's arm to keep him from falling into the harbor. A light on a small boat in one of the slips caught Renato's eye. Half-pushing, half-supporting Swann, he made his way toward the boat.

As they approached, the man sitting on the stern looked up at them from where he was repairing a rope by lantern light. All Renato could tell in the dim light was that the man was dark skinned.

"Pardon me, sir. Are you the captain of this ship?"

The man laughed. "'Tis a far cry from bein' a ship, but yah, I am de captain."

Renato smiled. "Excellent! I am seeking passage to Tortuga for my friend. Do you know of a vessel here that is bound for Tortuga soon?"

The captain laughed again. He gestured around at the impressive line of Naval ships anchored a short distance from shore. "I tink dat most o' de ships dat dock in Port Royal wouldn't be welcome in Tortuga's harbor! And de rest would be fearful of sailin' too near dere..." When he smiled his teeth gleamed yellow in the lantern light.

He pointed to his own boat. "No, de only boat dat comes and goes between Tortuga and Port Royal safely is dis one!"

Renato asked, "How is it that you dare to sail to Tortuga when no one else will?"

"Because I deliver de post between Cuba, Jamaica, Hispanolia and Tortuga."

Swann spoke for the first time since leaving the mansion. "The post! It must have been you who brought a letter from my daughter..." His words were badly slurred. The man looked at him curiously.

Renato interjected, "Of course he brought it. He brings all the letters to Port Royal!" He nodded pointedly at the captain, encouraging him to agree. The man understood Renato's gesture. "Aye, dat's right," he said.

"Did ye see 'er?" Swann asked. "Did ye see m'daughter?"

"I've seen lots o' women, but dey don't see me no more. Dey can't see an old man like me."

"Oh..." Swann sounded disappointed.

Renato pressed on. "Could you take my friend to Tortuga?"

The man shook his head. "I've no place for a passenger. Dere's no berths, just de deck."

Swann interrupted. "I don't care! I must get there! I order you to take me to Tortuga!" He began to get angry.

Renato seized his arm and turned him away from the man on the boat. "Calm down, sir! Let me handle this, please!" he hissed. Swann opened his mouth to argue.

Renato asked, "Do you want to go or do you not?"

Swann's mouth snapped shut. He nodded.

"Are you certain you don't require a berth?"

"I must save Elizabeth! Just get me there!"

Renato sighed. "Very well...I will do my best."

Swann grumbled under his breath as they returned to where the old man was sitting.

"My friend has a pressing need to get to Tortuga as soon as possible. He is not concerned about a berth. Will you take him?"

The captain thought for a moment. "I'll be leavin' in the mornin' for Port Au Prince, and den San Cristobal and den around de whole of Hispanolia before I sail back to Tortuga. Dat will take about, oh, perhaps ten days, two weeks. Dat's a long time on de deck for a landlubber..." He looked doubtfully at Swann.

"Unacceptable!" Swann sputtered. "How much to take me directly to Tortuga?"

"How much you offerin'?" the man countered.

Swann pulled the small bag from his pants pocket. The contents clinked softly.  
"One gold piece!" He fumbled into the bag and pulled out a gold coin. The captain's eyes opened wide for a moment, but then his face went blank. He said nothing. Unsure, Renato also said nothing. The three men stared at one another in the dim lantern light.

Swann's alcohol soaked patience ran out. "Fine then! Two gold pieces, but only if we leave immediately!" He reached into the bag and removed another coin.

The captain smirked for just a second before his expression went neutral again. He remained silent. The smirk didn't go unnoticed by Renato. He turned to Swann. "Sir, it's obvious that this man does not wish to take you to Tortuga. Let us take our offer and leave." He turned away from the captain and took Swann's arm to lead him away.

Swann began to bluster, but not before the captain blurted out "I'll take ye!" Renato allowed himself a quick smile.

—

Swann began to founder and stumble as they turned back toward the boat. Renato caught the coins and money bag as they slid from Swann's slackening hand. He shoved them hurriedly into his own pocket to free his hands before grabbing Swann around the shoulders to prevent the Governor from falling forward. Gripping Swann's upper arms tight with both hands, he lifted to hold him upright. This was no simple task. The Governor outweighed him and seemed to become heavier with each step.

As they reached the boat, Swann's head lolled back and his knees buckled. He teetered backward and would have taken Renato with him into the harbor. To counter the backward movement, Renato pushed forward somewhat harder than was necessary. The momentum carried Swann over the edge of the dock and down onto the deck of the boat. It was a short fall as it was only a step down from dock to deck. Swann landed face down across a wide coil of rope and did not move.

Renato jumped into the boat and turned Swann's head to one side. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing and there was no apparent blood anywhere. He pulled open one of Swann's eyelids. The eye beneath it was rolled back, displaying only white. "Ahh, the brandy is the victor..." Renato murmured. He stood up.

"You will still take him to Tortuga as was agreed?" he addressed the captain.

The man nodded. "Aye, I'll take'm dere directly. I'm a man of my word."

Renato handed Jim the two gold coins as he said, "And you will make sure he remains safe until he gets there?"

"None will bother 'im while 'e's wit me. Nobody takes notice of old Captain Jim. I come and I go, and nobody sees me, nobody cares unless dey've somethin' to post."

Renato replied, "It is very important to him to get to Tortuga as soon as possible." He knelt by the Governor's side and touched the side of his neck once more. "He's still breathing, but he may regret it when he awakens." Before rising he tucked the small leather pouch into Swann's vest pocket.

Jim replied, "Well then, unless ye be goin' too, ye'd better disembark! De tide's risin'."

Renato nodded. "Thank you." He stepped up onto the boat's rail and from there, jumped easily to the dock. "May your journey be a safe one."

"Thank ye." Jim was already casting off the lines that held the small boat in place. As Renato walked away he heard the sound of oars creaking and splashing as Jim maneuvered his craft out of the slip into the open harbor where he could raise the sail.

Renato hurried back to the boarding house where he had left his daughter. She was not in the dining room. He hurried upstairs and knocked on the door of the room he had gotten for her. "Vitória! Let me in!"

The door opened. "Father! You are back so soon! Is everything alright?"

"Providence has smiled upon us more than once tonight! Gather your things and come with me. I have secured both a position with the Governor's staff and a safe place for you to stay!"


End file.
